


The Spirit of Heelshire Manor

by toxic_corn



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Ghosts, Matchmaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-02-16 08:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 88,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18687823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxic_corn/pseuds/toxic_corn
Summary: When Brahms killed his nanny, Penny Beech, he thought she'd stay gone. Not so much. Now haunting the Heelshire house, Penny can't move on until she's "helped" Brahms. When Greta becomes the next nanny duped into the house, Penny tries to help Brahms improve himself and win Greta over. Penny's got her work cut out for her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *rubs hands together* Okay, I'm gonna combine my love of ghost stories with Brahms Heelshire's weird ass. I know where I want this to go but we'll see what twists and turns the path takes me. Hope you like!

When Brahms first clapped eyes on Greta Evans, he knew she was going to be the one. He'd spent the morning prior to her arrival worrying. On paper, all of the others had seemed perfect until they'd stepped foot in the Heelshire house and they had all proved themselves unworthy one by one. But with Greta, he could tell that he wasn't going to have to make her go away. When he made people go away, they tended to stay away. Well, for the most part. But Greta? He had a feeling about her.  


From his space behind the wall, Brahms watched Greta remove her boots and wander around the house looking both curious and fascinated. Biting his lip, he crept stealthily out of his hiding place, scooped up her boots and then ducked back in without making a sound.  


“Nice,” a voice said disgustedly. “On top of everything else you have a foot fetish, too?”  


“Shut up,” he hissed, not bothering to look around. He knew who it was.  


“She's not going to hear me. But she'll hear you if you keep arguing with me.” There was a long pause which the voice then punctuated with, “Dumbass.”  


Brahms clenched his jaw tightly and tuned the voice out. He watched his parents come in and greet Greta. His parents seemed to like her, too, in their cold, English kind of way. Nodding to himself, he turned and went off to his hidden bedroom deeper inside the house.  


“What's the plan with the boots?”  


Great, she was in one of these moods again. Usually, she ignored him and spent all of her time in the library. Other times she'd dog his heels, sneering at him and making biting comments at his expense. He hated it but he figured that he deserved it.  


He'd been the one to kill her, after all.  


In his room, he knelt and tucked Greta's boots under his bed and then plopped down on the mattress to sit cross-legged. He'd meet up with his parents later and give them his opinion concerning Greta and her suitability. For now, he'd have to ride out this bad mood that she was working herself up into now.  


Penny, the nanny he'd had up until last week, stepped out of the shadows glaring at him. She was still wearing the flannel nightie she'd died in and her golden brown hair was in slight disarray. Seeing it, he felt a tiny twinge of regret. Her hair was the first thing he'd noticed about her when she'd shown up to the house. That and her hourglass figure that he'd mistaken for pudginess until he'd spied on her undressing later in the evening. Anyway, her hair. It hung thick and glossy to the middle of her back, framing a round, friendly face that he'd been disappointed to see was make-up free and wore dark framed glasses. Of course, Penny didn't need those glasses now. Even if she did, they'd shattered during her tumble down the stairs. Without them, he could see she had a splash of freckles across her nose and over her cheekbones. A sweet-looking girl next door type. A bit like Emily. Not at all like tall Greta with her magazine cover good looks.  


“Well?” Penny demanded sharply.  


“Well, what?” Brahms wished he sounded bored and insolent but instead he sounded like a sullen child.  


Folding her arms, Penny rolled her eyes. He really hated the eye rolling. When she'd done it the first time he'd tried to slap her for it but the hit wasn't able to connect and she'd burst into peals of disdainful laughter.  


“Well, are you going to listen to me?” she asked, her voice thick with sarcasm. “Or are you going to go about this in your typical half-assed way? I can see we're already off to a good start if you're stealing her _shoes_ , you walnut.”  


“I didn't ask for your input,” Brahms growled.  


“Of course you didn't. Because that would have made sense.” Penny shook her head slowly. “I still think you should have your parents set you up with a fake ID. Then set up shop in that cottage through the woods. Pretend that you're the caretaker. Then when these nannies come, you can meet them and act like a normal person. This whole Bad Ronald routine you have is fucking weird and no one's going to stay with you if you keep it up. Unless the plan actually _is_ to murder everyone.”  


“Who's Bad Ronald?” Brahms asked.  


“He was a character in a tv movie. A freak who lived in the walls of a house, like you do. He didn't get a happy ending, by the way.” Penny sighed and looked at him with something like pity. Brahms preferred the animosity to this. “Come on. Don't you want better for yourself?”  


“Oh, like you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart,” Brahms snapped. “Didn't you tell me yourself? You tried to move on but they said you couldn't until you helped me.”  


“So let me help you!” Penny threw her arms up in the air in disgust. “You hate me! Just humor me so I can get out of here!”  


He heard voices from the study and got to his feet. It was time to meet with his parents through the walls. He wouldn't come out to speak with them; they preferred not to see him. They'd always been nervous when he'd ventured outside of the walls but since this nanny endeavor, his father had stated that they'd rather not see him ever again. It would have hurt but he'd grown used to this existence, when after the fire, he'd been hidden away in the attic as portions of the house had been rebuilt with hidden tunnels and areas for him to live. The whole time his burns were healing, he'd wished his mother would sit beside him and hold his hand, comfort him, but she hadn't been there. For the first time in his life, his mother wasn't there to “coddle” him as his father had called it. The resentment and anger had been building in his heart ever since.  


“If you want her to stay, you're going to have to make some changes, Brahms!” Penny called after him.  


Outside the study wall, he heard his father's slightly muffled voice say, “What do you think, Brahms? Do you like this one?”  


He knocked once and paused.  


“Do you want us to stay for a little longer? Just... just in case?” His parents had been in the house when Penny had died. Brahms thinks it wouldn't have happened if they hadn't been there. She wouldn't have felt brave enough to wander the big, unfamiliar house by herself at night and would have stayed in bed rather than investigate strange noises.  


He knocked twice.  


“All right, then, Brahms. We'll be on our way in the morning. We'll write to you.”  


_Don't fucking bother_. But there wasn't a knock for that so he knocked three times and went back to his room. Hopefully Penny had made her point and she'd be sulking in the library for the time being. There was no sign of her when he entered the room, so he let out a relieved breath and settled down on the bed, folding his hands on his chest. He indulged in a nice, smutty little fantasy starring Greta Evans and actually started to feel a little happy for once.

~*~

Penny turned the page of the book and sighed. She now had all the time in the world to do all the reading she could want which normally put her in a good mood, but Greta's arrival had upset things quite a bit.  


Greta was lovely and seemed like someone Penny would have liked a lot back when she was living. Her laugh at seeing the doll Brahms had made Penny smile. Penny herself had been horrified by the doll, suddenly worried that the Heelshires were serial murderers who lured young women to their house with a fake child. It turned out she'd been partially correct. It hadn't been hard to work out that someone was living in the walls. The weird emphasis on storing extra food, the ban on using the fireplaces, the paranoia about rats getting in... Not to mention the odd creaking that wasn't an old house settling, but clearly the sound of someone moving around.  


Her thoughts started to drift to That Night as she referred to it but she wouldn't let herself go there. It only made her more miserable. The fear, the remembered pain, the light, the voice telling her she had to go back. She had thought that meant she'd get to live, not that she'd have to be in this terrible Beetlejuice-like existence. She hadn't even tried to leave the house, worried she'd end up in a sand worm-filled desert like in the film. Too bad she didn't have anyone as handsome as young Alec Baldwin to keep her company.  


Before coming to this part of England, Penny had packed up every book she'd wanted to read. It had been expensive to ship a trunk of her books internationally but what was she going to do with her money now, anyway? She'd asked Brahms to make sure her books ended up in the library here so she could still read them and he'd actually done as she'd asked. Penelope flipped to the front of her book, her old gild-edged copy of Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales and ran her fingers over the book plate in the front with her grandmother's lovely writing. “Penelope Regan Beech. February 8th, 1990.” A present for her fifth birthday. Brahms would have turned seven that year. Just a year more until he murdered his best friend and then supposedly perished in a house fire himself.  


Fucking Brahms Heelshire. Penny wished she could cry. She still felt the burning lump in her throat and stinging sensation in her nose that always heralded tears but she couldn't. She couldn't cry any more than she could sleep or eat or use the restroom. That last one she didn't miss much but oh, the joy of sleeping in during the morning as sun shone into the room and made bouncy shadows on the walls. Or the satisfaction of munching on a chocolate bar while watching Netflix, texting her best friend Emily to make plans for the weekend. Fuck him. Fuck Brahms for taking away the life she'd loved. The life she didn't realize she loved until it was so brutally taken away from her.  


She heard voices coming down the stairs. Greta and the Heelshires were going in to dinner. Penny wished she could make Greta hear her, urge her to leave this house as fast as she could without her damn boots if necessary. She didn't want anyone else to have to share her fate, even if it would be kind of nice to have company besides Brahms. His parents weren't able to see her, nor the police who had come to investigate what appeared to be the accidental death of a young woman stumbling around a dark, unfamiliar house during the night.  


With one more sigh, Penny opened her book to her favorite story of The Little Mermaid and started reading.

~*~

That night, Greta spoke quietly on the phone with her sister, telling her how uneasy she felt about this weird new nanny position. From behind the wall, Brahms eavesdropped, admiring the way her hair fell from her casual ponytail into her eyes. He reached into his trousers and started to absently rub at himself a little. He wasn't even aware that he was doing it.  


Penny was in the room and stood leaning against the wall, arms folded and frowning at Greta. “Follow that bad feeling you have out of here,” Penny said out loud. “Don't stay here. Whatever danger brought you here, you still aren't safe. Run. While you still can. I wish I had.” She crossed the room to where she knew Brahms had a peep hole and said even louder, “He's just on the other side of the wall, jacking it!”  


Brahms growled and moved away. Penny smirked to herself and glanced over at Greta. She was too engrossed in her conversation and hadn't heard him. Penny's expression drooped into one of sorrow. Greta was going to have to be a lot more observant than this if she hoped to survive her time at Heelshire Manor.


	2. Chapter 2

Early the next morning, Penny drifted down the hallway, bored. She wished she could sleep; it would make the time pass so much quicker. She thought longingly of her life in Portland where she'd had a career in child care when she wasn't illustrating children's books. She'd loved kids and had wanted some of her own. She thought she'd been on her way to having them but her fiance, Chris, had come to her just last month, in tears and saying that they couldn't get married after all. Penny wanted kids so much and Chris was realizing that he didn't. It had been heartbreaking watching Chris pack his things and leave her forever. So heartbreaking that she'd gone online, found the job listing for a nanny position in England of all places, and she'd applied. She thought that some time away would heal her wounds and the countryside would inspire her. She hadn't picked up a pencil, paintbrush, or stylus in nearly a month when Mrs. Heelshire had called, inviting her out here.  


Look how great that had turned out.  


Angry, Penny went into Brahms's room and used all of her energy to throw shit around, upending a table. God damn it, she'd had a life! She'd been depressed at the time of her death, but in a few months' time, she'd have been okay! She would've started jogging with Emily again, dropped the extra weight she'd gained in her misery, and then let her other friends set her up with their single male friends! She'd have finished more paintings, posted them on Instagram, and gotten commissions! She was making plans to take a road trip to Arizona to visit her beloved college roommate! Who was going to put peonies on Grandma's grave now? Who was going to take care of her cat?!  


“Brahms! How could you? What have you done?” Mrs. Heelshire ran into the room and opened the curtains, putting things right. Penny stood and watched her, considering throwing something at the back of her gray, selfish head. But she spied Greta peering in at the doorway and decided to let it go for now.  


Leaving the old woman to remonstrate with the doll, Penny went back downstairs and stared out the window. It was a nice day, really. Sunny with just a few clouds. Almost nice enough for her to consider attempting to go outside, despite the possibility of sand worms.  


“What have you been doing in my room?”  


She glanced over at Brahms, hovering in one of his hidey holes. How many of the bloody things he had, she didn't know, she'd never bothered to keep count.  


“Throwing shit,” Penny said flatly, leaving the “duh” unspoken.  


“They think I did it,” Brahms said. His grotesque porcelain mask looked serene but his eyes blazed with anger.  


Penny shrugged a shoulder, looking back out the window. “I don't care, Brahms, and you shouldn't either. It's not like they're going to ground you. Take away your car. Forbid you from seeing your friends.” Suddenly, she started to laugh and found she couldn't stop.  


“Stop laughing,” Brahms demanded but she only laughed harder.  


“I can't.” She covered her mouth with her hands, the laughter continued to bubble up and out. Brahms's narrowed eyes only set her off more. “Maybe... maybe if they get mad enough at you, they'll take away your iPad!”  


Brahms growled. “Shut up, Penny.”  


“Or they'll cancel your graduation trip to Venice!”  


“Stop it!” Brahms shouted, voice breaking.  


Everything in the house fell still. The people upstairs must have heard him. The Heelshires would have a hell of a time explaining this away to Greta's satisfaction. Penny looked at Brahms with wide eyes and pointed behind him. “Get back in your wall.”  


Chest hitching, he did so and Penny stayed by the window, frowning. Eventually, Mr. Heelshire and Greta came down the stairs, the old man going on about the odd noises the house makes. Greta looked a little on edge but wasn't refuting anything he said, much to Penny's disappointment.  


With shoulders slumped, Penny drifted back into the library.

~*~

Brahms sulked in his room. God damn Penny for taunting him until he nearly gave himself away. All that crap about experiences he never had, experiences he'd _never_ be able to have. Just rubbing in the fact that he was an outcast with nothing going for him. No friends, no future plans, no kind of a life. It hadn't really bothered him that much before, after all you can't really miss what you haven't had, but having Penny point it out... now it bothered him. He suddenly wondered if _she'd_ had a graduation trip to Venice. Maybe not Venice, but she obviously had traveled. She'd been able to come quickly here to be his nanny after all, so she'd had a passport.  


 _Who cares what she has? She's a bitch_.  


“A bitch I killed,” Brahms said under his breath. He ran his hands over his unruly curls and let out a long sigh. Enough. Penny was the past even if she kept lingering in the present, making a nuisance of herself. Greta was the future. He wondered how she was doing.  


Brahms got up and crept down to the ground floor. Everything seemed quiet. Where was she? She hadn't left, had she? Had Penny succeeded in warning her away? His heart beat wildly in panic but he relaxed when he found Greta in the lounge, asleep. Next to her was a half empty glass of red wine and a thick, glossy fashion magazine. Why was she sleeping when he should be having his lessons? Where was he, anyway?  


He found himself on the chair in the hall underneath Greta's jacket. She'd just covered his face and left him here. Livid, he tugged the jacket off and looked down into his bland, porcelain face. Penny hadn't even done this. She'd carried him around on her hip and did goofy secret handshakes with him and whispered, “This is weird, right? It's totally weird but hey, I'm getting paid.”  


Brahms dropped the jacket and walked to the library where he knew he'd find Penny. She was there all right, curled up in a big, comfy chair and worrying the sleeve of her flannel nightie as she was completely engrossed in a book.  


“Hey.”  


Penny blinked a few times and drew in a deep breath. When she was interrupted in her reading, it always looked as if she was coming up for air after swimming under water for a long time. She looked at him without recognition for a moment and then her face fell. “What?”  


“Greta's already breaking the rules.”  


Her expression soured. “Better throw her down the stairs, then.”  


“I don't want to throw her down the stairs. I want her to follow the rules!”  


Looking exasperated, Penny threw her arms up. “Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do, Brahms? Speak sharply with her? She can't hear me! Besides, your rules are total bullshit. Which one did she break anyway?”  


“She covered my face.”  


“Oh, god, grow up!” Penny dropped her face into her hands. “What's the end game here, Brahms? What do you want to have happen?”  


Brahms folded his arms across himself protectively. “I want Greta to stay with me.”  


“In what capacity? Looking after your little doll forever? Or do you want her to know the real you? Because if you want to have another person stay with you, you have to accept that they're their own person. You can't control them. Maybe the two of you agree to some ground rules together but you don't just enforce your will on someone else. Not if you want a successful relationship.”  


“Oh, look at the jilted woman dispensing advice,” Brahms said nastily.  


Penny flinched. “You're the one who came to me bitching and moaning. If you don't want my advice, don't talk to me. It'll make my eternity much more bearable.”  


“Fine, I won't,” Brahms snapped. He crossed over to the wall and opened his hidden door. “It's no wonder your fiance left you if you're this mean.” She didn't have a smart answer for that and he got to leave having the last word for once.

~*~

When Greta discovered Brahms uncovered, she was clearly spooked and then angrily tossed the doll into his bedroom where he landed in his rocking chair. Penny followed along behind her and laughed a little.  


“Good throw,” Penny said and of course Greta didn't hear her.  


Penny stayed in Brahms's childhood bedroom, staring at the doll. He looked a little sad. She knew that sounded stupid, the doll couldn't actually feel anything and honestly had a neutral facial expression. Before That Night she'd found the Brahms doll creepy. Now, though... He was just pathetic. Just like his namesake.  


Shaking herself from her reverie, Penny went back to Greta's room. She knew Brahms was lurking nearby and spying and she hated the thought of leaving Greta alone to his leering gaze. As Greta started to dress for bed, Penny stood in front of Brahms's peeping spot to block his view. Once Greta was decent once more in her long-sleeved tee and sweats, Penny moved aside.  


When Greta shut out the lights and eventually fell asleep, Penny stood by her bed. “Greta? Hi. My name's Penny. Penny Beech. Until last week, I had your job.” She spoke in a whisper, bending close to Greta's sleeping ear. “I know I'm being kind of creepy right now but you can't hear me when you're awake. I read somewhere that we can hear things subconsciously when we're asleep so I'm trying this now. Listen carefully: you're in a lot of danger. There's a madman in the walls and he's difficult to appease. He'll kill you if you do the slightest thing wrong. You're already pissing him off but luckily, his desire for you is stronger than that. For now. Tomorrow, you need to pack your stuff and get out. Or just get out, don't even bother packing. Take your phone and run. Please, Greta. That horrible man in the walls, he killed me first. I don't want the same thing happening to you. Please.”  


Suddenly, Greta jerked awake, gasping. Penny took a few startled steps back. From another room, they could both hear what sounded like a child crying. Penny rolled her eyes. Why did Brahms have to be so extra? Looking terrified, Greta rose from her bed and crept to Brahms's room.  


Well, between Penny's warning and now Brahms's own weird behavior, maybe Greta would leave. If she didn't, Penny would just have to think of something else to warn her off.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next few days, the three entities within Heelshire Manor did a good job of avoiding one another. Greta mainly wandered the grounds looking forlorn and occasionally calling her sister, begging for more magazines to occupy her time. Brahms lurked within the walls, spying on Greta and despairing at her inability to follow any of his rules. Penny stayed in the library re-reading all of Jane Austen's works and thinking bitterly of her early days in England when she'd been at Heathrow daydreaming about finding her own Mr. Darcy. Truly abysmal days for all three, each of them miserable in their own lonely way.  


Finally, Brahms couldn't take it anymore and picked up the downstairs line, calling the house. He wasn't sure what he was going to say, but something needed to be said. There were rules to follow, a schedule to keep, and Greta wasn't doing anything right. His parents weren't paying her to read magazines, god damn it. When Greta picked up, he suddenly became tongue tied and could only stand there breathing. Her tone changed when she suddenly asked, “Cole?”  


Uncomfortable with being called by another man's name, Brahms's breath caught in his throat and he abruptly dropped the phone. When he looked up, Penny was in the doorway, disdain clear in every feature of her face.  


“Ordering a pizza?” she asked dryly.  


Brahms exhaled sharply through his nose. “What are you doing in here?”  


“What are _you_ doing in here?” Penny retorted. “The walls are your territory, sunshine. I get to roam the halls and, I don't know, rattle chains or something.”  


“I get to go wherever I want in my own house,” Brahms informed her with as much dignity as he could muster.  


“Good for you.” Penny sighed. “I heard the phone ring so I was curious who it was. I thought-- well. You don't care what I think.” She left the room.  


Her abrupt departure surprised Brahms for a moment. Then he remembered that remark he made about her fiance and realized he must have struck a nerve. _Of course I did. That's why I said it._ He didn't want to think about it anymore, so he went to the freezer and fished around for something to eat. He found a plastic container of leftover lasagna that looked pretty appetizing and then went back to his room to heat it up in his microwave. As he waited for his food, he stood, arms folded, and thought about Greta and this mysterious Cole. He may come here looking for Greta; Brahms knew if he ever had a girlfriend as beautiful as her, he'd follow her to the ends of the earth. So Brahms would have to make his move before Cole got here. But what could he do? It's not as if he had any friends to ask, as Penny was fond of pointing out.  


Penny. She'd been trying to give him advice to begin with on how to be more appealing. Maybe there was something to her idea of him posing as a handyman. It was too bad his parents had already left on their trip; they could have helped sell the idea better. But before he did that, he'd have to work his courage up, learn some skills besides loafing around in his room and eating and feeling depressed.  


He thought of Penny again and growled. She was his only hope. He'd seek her out after he ate. It wouldn't be fun having to beg her to help him but it was in her own best interest to do so. Whatever entity that ruled the afterlife had told her that she needed to “help” Brahms in order to go into the light or something. She'd been rather vague about the whole thing but Brahms hadn't gotten the sense that she'd been making it all up.  


The microwave dinged and he opened the door, salivating at the smell of gooey cheesy pasta.

~*~

Penny was deep into reading _Emma_ when someone in the doorway cleared their throat. Slowly, the picture of the drawing room at Hartfield faded from her mind and she blinked to find herself in the dreary library of the Heelshire house. Brahms awkwardly shuffled into the room, hands inside his pockets.  


“What now?” Penny asked. She wanted to sound more strident but she felt so beaten down. Every conversation with this creep was such a battle. She hated that he was the only one who could see her, that he was her only company.  


Brahms drew in a deep breath then said, “I... I need help. With Greta.”  


Penny looked him over coldly. “I thought you had a grand plan of your own and didn't need to take advice from a 'jilted woman.'”  


His hands curled into fists. “You're supposed to help me.”  


“Maybe I don't want to.” Penny's voice broke and she looked back down at her book. “Maybe I want you to be as miserable as I am, you murderer.”  


“I think you want to leave this place,” Brahms said sharply. “I think you'd do anything to see the last of me and this house.” He crossed over to her and Penny couldn't stop herself from flinching, even though he couldn't hurt her anymore. His shoulders dropped and he said sadly, “Look, we both need something from this arrangement. Just... help me and then you can leave. Please?”  


Sighing, Penny stood and clasped her book to her chest. “Well. Okay. But only because you said 'please.'”  


“When should we start...?”  


“No time like the present.”  


“Now?” Brahms asked, surprised.  


Penny raised her eyebrows. “Do you have other plans?”

~*~

“Mkay, why don't we start with the basics. Let's see what I'm working with, here.”  


Brahms and Penny sat cross-legged across from each other on the floor of Brahms's room. Penny stared at him expectantly and Brahms shifted a bit, his shoulders hunching.  


“I don't understand.”  


“The mask, dude. Take it off.”  


He sat up straighter and said quickly, “No, I need it.”  


“Brahms, the mask is god awful. You're going to send Greta running from the house screaming when she sees you. Come on, take it off.” Penny laughed a little and covered her face. “'Take it off.' God. The mask. Take off the _mask_.”  


With trembling hands, he touched the edges of his porcelain mask. “You can't laugh at me.”  


“I already laugh at you,” Penny said, blunt as always. “Just take off the mask, Brahms.” When he continued to hesitate, she started to get up. “Okay, never mind. This was a stupid idea.”  


“Wait!” Brahms exclaimed. When she paused and frowned at him, he took a deep breath and then carefully removed the mask. He stared defiantly into Penny's eyes, daring her to make one of her snotty comments.  


Instead, she sat and stared at him quietly. She didn't even look disgusted. Her expression was thoughtful and she pinched at her lower lip with her thumb and forefinger in a way that Brahms found inexplicably adorable. Then she scooted close to him and peered intently at his face.  


“I thought your eyes were brown but they're actually green,” she murmured to herself. “Huh.”  


When she said nothing else, he awkwardly started to pick up his mask but she held out a hand to stop him. “Hang on. I'm still figuring this out.”  


“Figuring what out?” Brahms asked miserably.  


Penny nodded a few times. “Okay. So there's some pretty significant damage to your face. But not like, Freddy Kruegar level damage. Some spots are better than others but you can see the ground work for a good looking guy. The beard's okay but you really need to trim it down some. Well, by quite a lot, actually. We should trim your hair a little, too. Some girls like curls but I was never a fan. But this isn't about me, it's about Greta. Just brushing it out a little and trimming it will help you look more put together.”  


“Er. Okay.” Brahms suddenly felt shy, hearing Penny call him good looking. Well, she called him good looking in a round about way. But he still felt flattered. That feeling shattered at her next words.  


“Now, as for everything else, you need to bathe regularly because you look dirty. I got a good whiff of you when you shoved me down the stairs and it was pretty bad. And you always look kind of sweaty and your hair's pretty greasy. The clothes are a nightmare. Do you own a pair of shoes?”  


Brahms looked at his bare feet. “No.”  


“Doesn't it get cold, though?”  


“I don't notice it anymore. Not really.”  


Penny shrugged. “Okay, but the shoes are necessary. We'll look through your dad's stuff later. For now, we should get going on your makeover. Can you take a shower before bed? It's raining pretty hard tonight so Greta shouldn't be able to hear anything. If she does though, I can just lock her in her room so she can't come out and find you.”  


“Okay.” Brahms nodded and got to his feet.  


“In the morning, we'll trim your beard and hair. Then we'll talk about the kind of guy you want to be. Give it some thought. We'll talk tomorrow.” Penny stood as well. “'Night, Brahms.”  


“Penny?” Brahms asked uncertainly.  


“What?”  


He lost his courage and asked, “What do you do all night? Do you sleep?”  


She smiled sadly. “I can't. I either read or just sit and think.”  


“What do you think about?” Brahms asked.  


Penny's smile dropped. “Lots of things. How about you brainstorm what you want your new identity to be and don't worry about what I think. I'll check back in with you after you've had breakfast. Goodbye.”  


She drifted from the room and Brahms watched her go, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

~*~

In the morning, Brahms munched on some toast and then met with Penny in his parents' en suite bathroom. Greta had been up early and headed outdoors for a walk. In the mean time, Penny had looked around the Heelshires' bathroom and found Mr. Heelshire's shaving kit.  


When Brahms entered the room, maskless, Penny nodded at him with something like approval. “Your hair looks way better. It's too bad you had to put the same nasty clothes on after you bathed but whatever, we'll fix that in a second. Here's your dad's shaving kit; there's scissors for trimming and a razor to get rid of your neck beard. While you do that, I'm gonna go through your dad's clothes and see if I can find something presentable for you. Well, it has to be presentable _and_ believable as a handyman. Hopefully he has jeans.”  


Penny breezed from the room and Brahms stared at the kit uncertainly. His father hadn't taught him how to shave. When his beard got too long and bushy sometimes his mother would cut it down a little but that didn't happen as often these days. He opened the kit and stared at the various items. He could dimly remember sitting on his parents' bed and watching his father shave at this very mirror but then his mother would call him away to help her fasten a necklace for her so he didn't have much to pull from memory-wise that would help him now. His father had lathered with some kind of soap but other than that...  


In a couple of minutes, Penny appeared in the door. “Okay, I found a few things. They're on the bed but-- Jesus, haven't you done anything in here?”  


Brahms started guiltily and then turned to face her. “I uh, I don't...”  


Suddenly understanding, Penny entered the room again. “I'm sorry, I totally forgot. Your dad probably didn't teach you how to shave, huh?”  


“No, he didn't,” Brahms mumbled.  


“Okay. I'll help you.” She gently pushed him out of the way and then turned her back to the mirror, boosting herself up onto the sink. Once she was settled, she pulled the kit close and took out a pair of scissors. “Come here, then. Let's trim down this forest you got on your face, first of all.”  


Brahms obediently stood between her legs and let Penny get to work. She gently grasped his face in her hands, measuring his beard with her fingers and then snipping where she needed to. As she worked, her lips pursed in a pout of concentration that made Brahms smile.  


“There!” Finished, Penny sat back and beamed in satisfaction. “Look! It's way better, isn't it?”  


Reluctantly, Brahms looked in the mirror. All he could see was the burns all over his face but Penny pressed a hand to his cheek again and said almost gently, “Look at your beard, Brahms. It looks really nice. Trust me, this is workable. I'm way more confident that you'll make a good physical impression.”  


He looked at Penny doubtfully. “Yeah?”  


She nodded with confidence. “Yeah. Now, go grab a towel and drape it over your front. I need to shave your neck.”  


Brahms did as he was told and tilted his head back as instructed. She ran some water and mixed some soap onto the kit's brush, then lathered up his neck. He felt nervous having the girl he'd murdered press a razor to his neck, especially as he watched her sharpen the blade on the strap. Unconsciously he started to draw backwards.  


“Nuh uh, c'mere,” Penny murmured. One of her legs looped around the back of his to pull him back. She kept her leg there and said softly, “Chin up, Brahms.”  


Again, he tilted his head up and she began to gently scrape the blade down his neck. She took such care but he kept perfectly still just in case. In between swipes, she'd rinse the blade off in the sink and then go right back to shaving him. It struck him how intimate this was and wondered if she'd ever done this for her fiance. She must have. She'd told his parents that her own parents had died when she was small so she wouldn't have been able to do this for her father.  


When Penny finished, she set the blade aside and grasped the towel to dab at his neck to dry it. “All done,” she murmured. “Let's give you a bit of a trim and we'll be done here.”  


All he could do was nod. Then she reached over and held his chin in place, sternly telling him not to move. Then she picked up the scissors and cut here and there at his curls. They'd always tended to stand up a bit wildly but Penny quickly tamed them.  


With her handiwork complete, Penny sat back proudly and said, “Why, Miss Finch, you're beautiful.”  


He frowned at her. “What?”  


“Like in the old movies? A woman lets down her hair and--” From outside, they heard the approach of a car and they stared at one another, wide-eyed. Both of them bolted from the bathroom at the same time to the front of the house where they could peer out a window.  


Down below, Malcolm and Greta got out of Malcolm's car and walked up to the house, chatting. The sight made Brahms start to frown darkly.  


“Who's that?” Penny asked.  


“Malcolm,” Brahms all but growled.  


“Deliveries Malcolm?” Penny brightened. “You killed me before I got to meet him.”  


Brahms gave her a sour look. “He was here not that long ago.”  


“Well, I didn't see him,” Penny said airily. “I'm gonna go check him out. Go try on your new outfit.” She hurried downstairs and Brahms stared after her in disbelief.  


“Fancy getting all worked up over a grocer,” her muttered and went back to the bedroom, shoulders hunched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Miss Finch" remark comes from Neil Gaiman, particularly his short story "The Facts in the Case of the Departure of Miss Finch."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where we finally start diverging from the movie plot. Greta also doesn't find a chunk of her hair missing because Penny watches over her every night so Brahms can't do anything hinky.

Malcolm turned out to be an attractive, thirty-something man with short dark hair and a pleasant amount of scruff on his face. He looked like the type of guy Penny had always gone for and she felt a twinge of regret when he smiled, revealing dimples. If Brahms hadn't killed her, maybe she'd be the one flirting with Malcolm right now and not Greta. There was definitely a flirty vibe between the two of them, though it was obvious Malcolm was more into Greta than she was into him. Penny had never been in that position before and wondered if it would be nice to not be the pining one for once. Well, good for Greta. She'd clearly come here with her own demons and no intention of hooking a man, yet here was a lovely one right in front of her. Penny probably would have flirted too, though the memory of Chris still pained her when she allowed herself to think of him.  


Greta and Malcolm went to the kitchen and Penny trailed them, not willing to leave just yet. They were so vibrant and Brahms so... wasn't. It was comforting to be around them, like she was back in high school watching while one of her friends flirted with a cute boy. She dropped into a chair at the table while Malcolm and Greta got to work emptying the freezer of old food Brahms hadn't eaten. Greta bemoaned the waste, echoing Penny's exact thoughts.  


“Mr. Heelshire eats some of them. He's always been the less strict one about all of this,” Malcolm said, tying off the garbage sack and setting it aside.  


“You could have warned me, you know,” Greta said with a disapproving stare.  


“ _I_ fucking warned you,” Penny said, dropping her chin into her hand and heaving a sigh.  


Malcolm turned and looked over at the table a moment, frowning. Then he looked at Greta and quipped, “What, and ruin the surprise?”  


Their conversation continued but Penny stared at Malcolm. He'd acted as if he'd heard her. Unless she was completely misreading his glance at the table? But why would he look away from Greta for a moment when he was so into her?  


After receiving her payment for the week, Greta said, “But I have to ask.”  


“Yes, I am single, believe it or not,” Malcolm joked and then sobered. “'What's the story with the doll?'”  


Greta nodded, eyes sad. “Yeah.”  


“I wouldn't mind hearing this, either,” Penny said out loud, looking carefully at Malcolm's face.  


Again, Malcolm nervously glanced at the table and then picked up the full garbage bag. “Why don't we walk and talk?” he asked.  


“No, stay right here,” Penny said. “Can you hear me? Malcolm?”  


“Let me just grab my jacket,” Greta said and left the room.  


Once they were alone, Penny tried again. “Malcolm, if you can hear me, I'm Penny Beech. I died in this house and you might not even know about me. There was barely an investigation into my death. You need to get Greta out of here. She isn't safe. No one here is.”  


Malcolm took a cautious step toward the table and said quietly, “Brahms?”  


Penny's eyes slid shut in frustration. “Oh, you fucking dumbass.” She pressed her hands to her face and held in the scream she so desperately wanted to let out. Malcolm would probably hear that clearly enough.  


Then Greta came in wearing her jacket and she and Malcolm went out the kitchen door. Penny considered following them but was still too afraid of the unknown. At worst, she could end up in the sandworm netherworld like poor Adam and Barbara in Beetlejuice. At, well, maybe not best, but less worst, she could end up back in the house again on some horrible kind of loop.  


Glumly, Penny got up and decided to go check on Brahms.

~*~

Penny had found a blue and white striped button up shirt and faded gray work pants. While everyone was off fawning over Malcolm, Brahms put them on and then stood in front of the glass and stared at his chest. He couldn't quite bring himself to look at his face. Despite Penny's heartening words earlier, all he could see was his scars. No haircut or shave was going to change the fact that he'd been badly burned. All Greta would see was a broken man and she'd feel pity. His hands curled up in fists at the thought.  


“Oh, cool, everything fits!” Penny came in the door and smiled at his reflection. “This should work. I'll keep looking and find more stuff for you. You need more than one outfit, after all. What do you think? Do you like it?”  


“How was Malcolm?” Brahms asked bitterly.  


“He's cute in a try hard kind of way,” Penny answered with a shrug. “But anyway, how's the shirt? Do the cuffs stop at the right place? Hold your hands out so I can see.”  


“Cute?” Brahms repeated.  


Penny stared at him. “What?”  


“Is cute good?” Brahms asked. “Does Greta like cute?”  


“I guess so. They went off on a walk together to gossip about you.” Penny gestured at his hands. “Now can you show me if the damned shirt fits correctly?”  


Brahms spun and stormed out of the room, ignoring Penny's shouted “Hey!” He had a feeling where they'd be and went to the window that overlooked his grave. Sure enough, there they were. Malcolm and Greta stood with their backs to him, side by side. Well, didn't they look cozy. Stewing, Brahms watched the pair of them until they walked back to the house . He let the curtain slip through his fingers as he backed up in case any of them should glance upwards.  


Penny was in the doorway when he turned around. “Hey, could you maybe chill out? They've seen each other like, twice now. They're not eloping anytime soon.”  


Snarling, Brahms shoved out with both hands, intending to move her out of his way. Instead, he met with cold air and stumbled forward a little. His pride broke just a bit more as Penny looked revolted, taking a step back.  


“God, you're so aggressive!” Penny exclaimed  


“Get out of my way,” Brahms snapped.  


“You can ask nicely!” Penny shouted. “Girls don't like being ordered around! And quit trying to shove me! It's not going to happen, I'm a _ghost_!”  


Brahms threw his arms up. “You touch me all the time! You were able to shave me without any trouble! Why's that?”  


“Hey, that's easily answerable, let me just consult my ghost handbook!” She mimed flipping through a few pages then exclaimed, “Oh, that's right, there isn't one!” She fake threw the book over her shoulder and continued, “I don't know, Brahms! It's weird, okay?! Everything is weird and scary and I don't know what's going on!”  


“Don't get hysterical,” Brahms said sullenly.  


Penny's nostrils flared. “You don't get to tell me not to get hysterical! Not after everything you've done to me!” She took a step back and visibly pulled herself together. Then she said flatly, “I'm not helping you. You're on your own.”  


“Then you're stuck here forever,” Brahms warned her as she turned to leave.  


She paused and then looked back at him. There was something in her eyes he didn't like. “Maybe I'm not.” Then she continued down the hall and drifted soundlessly down the stairs.  


_Maybe I'm not_. What did that mean? Probably nothing. If she had any other options, she'd have taken them already. He did his best to shrug it off and went to the wall to open one of his secret passages, intending to go downstairs and spy on Malcolm and Greta. But there was a new, heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach that he didn't much care for.

~*~

Penny stayed in the library while Greta prepared for her date with Malcolm. Unfortunately, Penny was still angry at Brahms so she couldn't concentrate on her book. She must have read the same paragraph at least five times. Giving up, she slammed the book shut.  


What an asshole. She'd never had a guy so much as look at her wrong, and then here was this English shut-in shoving her around like he had all the right in the world. Who did he think he was? Sure, it was his house, but that didn't give him a license to murder her and continue trying to assault her.  


They'd been getting along so well this morning; what did he have to go and ruin it all for? If she had to be stuck here, couldn't they at least try to make the best of it? Penny exhaled a shaky breath and tipped her head forwards. She tended to get along with everyone she met but Brahms was a pretty big exception. He wasn't like anyone she'd come across before and that was putting it very lightly. Penny was quite obviously not what Brahms was used to, either. His parents had catered to his every whim while he was living, that much was obvious, and now here he was still controlling everything from within the walls. He has his parents matchmaking for him, for crying out loud. Yet here was Penny, who refused to think he was wonderful simply because he existed, and Brahms couldn't handle it.  


“Hello?”  


Penny sat up. What was Greta doing? She sounded frightened.  


Better question: What was _Brahms_ doing?  


Her book slid from her lap and hit the floor as she jumped up and sprinted up the stairs. Benefit of being dead: she could run a lot faster and never be out of breath. She stopped abruptly in the hallway, finding Greta clad in a towel. The stairs leading to the attic were down and Greta was calling up them, thinking Malcolm was playing a prank on her. Then the idiotic girl started climbing the stairs and Penny wanted desperately to shake her.  


As Greta disappeared up the stairs, Brahms took a step from one of the rooms, his mask on his face once more. He started toward the attic stairs and Penny's eyes widened.  


Oh shit. Oh shit, he was going to attack Greta.  


Thinking fast, Penny knocked at the stairs with one hand and the whole thing abruptly folded back up into the ceiling.  


Brahms curled his hands into fists and spun on Penny. “Why did you do that?!”  


“I'm helping you!” Penny blurted out.  


““I thought you weren't helping me anymore!”  


“I changed my mind,” Penny lied. “I want out of here, like you said. And now that Greta's trapped upstairs, she can't go on her date, can she?”  


Brahms looked up at the attic door, out of reach. Greta had been clutching the hook when she'd gone up the stairs so there was no way to pull them down again. “I suppose not,” he finally muttered.  


“Okay, so let's start this over then, shall we?” Penny folded her arms. “I want to leave. You want me to leave. Therefore, we need to work together. So we need to agree on ground rules. First and foremost: you don't get to shove me, hit me, punch me, anything violent towards me. You already killed me, the job's done.”  


He nodded tersely.  


“Secondly,” she pointed up to the ceiling. “Leave Greta alone. Stop being creepy. No more stalking her and spying on her. Tonight, we're moving you out to that cottage. It won't be comfortable but your wall fortress isn't exactly the height of luxury, either. But we'll fix it up for you so it'll be like home.”  


“Anything else?” Brahms asked.  


“Yeah, actually.” Penny took a step toward him, staring up into the eye holes of his mask. “You need to follow every instruction I give. When I ask to see the sleeves of your shirt to make sure it fits, I'm not doing it for fun. I'm doing it to help you. So ignoring me and having a big man baby tantrum because some other man is nearby and more interesting than you are is a sure way to piss me off. By the time I'm through with you, Greta will be interested in you. I can almost guarantee it. She's a wounded soul herself, so she'll want to protect the poor, shy, scarred handyman. Or at least she will if you listen to me. Got it?”  


Brahms was silent and then said, “I want to add something.”  


Penny laughed bitterly. “This should be good. What is it?”  


He was quiet for a little longer, his shoulders hunching. “I don't want you making fun of me anymore. No more cracks about not having any friends or real life experiences.”  


Penny bit her lip a moment, feeling a teensy bit of guilt. Then she nodded once. “Okay, that's fair. Anything else?”  


“No, I think that's it.”  


“Okay, then.” Penny held out her hand. “Shake on it?”  


Brahms looked down at her hand. “Will it work?”  


She shrugged. “Try it and find out.”  


He reached over reluctantly and gripped her hand. They looked into each other's eyes, still distrustful of one another but having no other choice but to work together if they wanted their goals met.  


They shook, once.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update so soon after the last one? Well, I'm going to be pretty busy next week due to working full time, a horrible two hour work meeting coming up, my new improv class, AND I'm recording an episode of my podcast so I'm not sure if I'll feel up to writing. So here's next week's chapter early! <3

Malcolm knocked on the door outside and waited a bit, hesitating for a few minutes before dejectedly getting back into his car and driving away. Once he was gone and it sounded like Greta had settled down in the attic, Brahms and Penny split up.  


Penny worked gathering together the things Brahms would need at the cottage. She went through Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire's bedroom and found more clothes for him, discovering the motherlode of t-shirts that she hadn't suspected the old man had. She folded them neatly into an old maroon valise, adding random pairs of jeans she'd found in a box in the closet. Then she grabbed the shaving kit and nestled that on top of the clothing before zipping it up quickly.  


Downstairs, Brahms was supposed to be packing up what books he wanted and getting some food. She hoped he wasn't dicking around rooting through Greta's things. He'd apparently planned to snoop through her belongings but Penny had told him no and had him put her necklace and dress back from where he'd filched them while Greta had been in the shower. Penny also made him give back Greta's boots. He hadn't even argued which was a good sign, Penny felt. Pondering all this, Penny went to the linen closet and got a couple of pillows, sheets and duvet which she carried on one arm, the other holding the bag of clothing.  


Satisfied with what she'd gathered, she went downstairs and found Brahms in the kitchen, arms folded. He'd stuffed a plastic shopping sack with food and there were three books on the table beside it. When Penny came in, he looked up, his face pensive. She'd made him get rid of the mask as well and good riddance to it.  


“Ready to call them?” Penny asked quietly.  


Brahms cleared his throat and then nodded.  


“Go on, then. I'm right here. I'll help you if you don't know what to say.”  


His tight shoulders loosened a little at this reassurance and he crossed to the phone on the wall. He drew in a deep breath and then dialed the number of the lake house where his parents were staying.

~*~

Brahms and his parents used to stay at the lake house every summer. He had the number memorized, having it drilled into him by his mother in case of an emergency. That came in handy once when he'd wandered through the woods for miles, ending up at a country store his family hadn't even known existed until this incident. Then he'd called the lake house number and they'd come to get him. They'd bought him an ice cream before leaving for being a clever lad and knowing the number.  


He didn't think he'd be getting another ice cream anytime soon.  


Penny stood at his side as the lake house phone rang and rang. Finally, the line picked up and his father's cautious voice said, “Hello?”  


He didn't know what to say suddenly and looked to Penny. She mouthed what he should say and he repeated it. “Hi, it's Brahms.”  


“Brahms.” His father sounded uncomfortable. “Is anything wrong? Did Greta...?”  


“Greta's fine,” Brahms answered him. He swallowed. “I uh, I need you to call the house tomorrow. Tell Greta that you've hired a handyman. One called Aaron Woodhouse. You thought he'd be coming long after you'd returned from your trip but he was able to start early. You just wanted to give Greta some forewarning. Okay?”  


His father was quiet for a few moments. “Are you going to be this handyman? Where will you stay? Somewhere in the house? I'm not sure Greta will--”  


“I'm going to stay in the old cottage. No one's lived there since that housekeeper you grew up with, right? It should still have electricity and running water?”  


“Well, yes, but... I'm not sure that's the best place for you. Are you sure...?”  


“Yes,” Brahms said firmly and looked at Penny who nodded at him.  


His father sighed. “All right. I'll call Greta in the morning about... er, what's this chap's name supposed to be? Woodhouse?”  


“Yes, Aaron Woodhouse.”  


“All right. I'll give Malcolm a call as well. He can even start bringing you payment as well as Greta's. May I ask why...?”  


Brahms looked into Penny's eyes and said, “I want to do this right this time.”  


“Well, so long as on one else is hurt,” his father said, his voice sounding husky. “I'm glad that you... that you realize...”  


“Goodnight,” Brahms said.  


“Goodnight, son.”  


He hung up the phone and then looked back at Penny again. She was smiling a little, something she'd never really done for him before. He was struck by the way it transformed her eyes, making them warm and almost sparkly.  


“Time to go,” Penny said quietly.  


Brahms nodded and then looked around the kitchen. He hadn't left this house in over twenty years. His heart beat hard in his chest, his stomach rolling. He told himself that he wasn't going far, that Penny was going with him anyway,so he wouldn't be alone. She'd promised she'd be nicer and she'd made good on that so far. This wasn't going to be so bad. Now if only his body would stop acting like he was about to die...  


He grabbed the sack of food and the stack of books then went to the kitchen door. He opened it and took a step out. The night air was cold, chilly almost. He shivered and took another step outside. He stood on the smooth, concrete steps and stared out at the dark grounds. The night was fairly still, other than the gentle wind that blew and made the trees rustle. An owl hooted and his head snapped up, trying to track the sound.  


“Just an owl,” Penny said from behind him.  


“I know,” he mumbled. “Well, let's go.” He started walking toward where he remembered the cottage was. His heart continued to pound and after a few steps, he looked to Penny for a confidence boost. His breath caught when he realized he was by himself. Spinning abruptly around, he saw she stood in the kitchen doorway, the valise clutched in both hands, just standing there watching him.  


He hurried back. “Well? Come on.”  


“I don't- I don't know if I can,” Penny whispered.  


“What do you mean you don't know if you can?” Brahms asked impatiently.  


“Exactly how it sounds!” Penny snapped, her face crumbling.  


Brahms set his bag and books on the bottom step and walked up to the top again. He stood in front of Penny and said. “Come on, what are you afraid of?”  


“Sand worms.”  


He rocked back. “What?!”  


“You wouldn't get it,” she said bitterly. She closed her eyes. “Brahms, I don't know if I can leave the house.”  


“Try,” he insisted.  


Dropping the valise, her shoulders shook from the force of the terrified sobs she was letting out. She couldn't cry but she seemed to be giving it her best shot. “What if I disappear? What if I end up in another dimension?”  


Brahms squared his jaw and stepped up, grabbing her hands. He was surprised when he made contact, though they'd been able to shake hands earlier. It felt like hard air rather than skin but he held her hands tightly. “You're not going anywhere but with me. I'm Brahms Heelshire and I _always_ get my way. Now come on!” He gave her a tug.  


Letting out a little scream, she glided down the stairs after him and then stood on the lawn. She kept her eyes shut tight, shaking.  


“Penny. Open your eyes.”  


Cautiously, Penny's eyes blinked open. She gaped up at Brahms and then around her. “I'm outside.”  


“Yes. I had to drag you out here and now you're outside.” He started to drop her hands but she clutched on to him tightly. “You can let go now.”  


“What if the only thing keeping me here is you?” Penny asked urgently.  


“If you start to disappear, I'll grab onto you again,” Brahms said. “Now let go.”  


She bit her lip for a moment and then all at once dropped his hands. She gasped and looked all around her again. “I'm still here! I didn't go anywhere!”  


“No sand worms,” Brahms confirmed. He went back to the steps and scooped up his bag and books. “Come on, let's go. Hopefully Greta didn't hear us.”  


Penny stood a little longer, gazing about her with dreamy eyes. Brahms was about to urge her to move again but decided against it. She'd been in the house for weeks and had been utterly miserable. He remembered during her interview, she'd told his parents that she loved the outdoors and had gone hiking frequently in her old life. Now, she was finally free to move about and it felt mean to snap at her to move to yet another house.  


“It's so beautiful out here,” she said, mostly to herself it seemed.  


The longer he spent outside, the more uncomfortable he felt. He couldn't relate to her wonder and only wanted to be inside again, where he couldn't hear the wind and every tree branch as it swayed. It made him uneasy not having walls all around him, keeping him safe.  


“Ready?” he asked.  


Penny glanced over at him and nodded slowly. He waited for her to go back to the steps and pick up his valise of clothes and then they set off across the grounds, through the woods to the old cottage.

~*~

“Do you have a key?” Penny asked as Brahms discovered the cottage door was locked.  


He knelt and picked up a rock, revealing a rusted key underneath.  


“Wow, that's really not safe,” Penny said.  


“Not many burglars out here,” Brahms said with a shrug. He put the key in the lock and opened the door.  


Penny followed him inside. “How did you know...?”  


“I used to play in here with Emily. Before.”  


Tilting her head to the side, Penny asked, “Emily?”  


“My best friend. Emily Cribbs.”  


Laughing, Penny closed the door behind her. “My best friend's name is Emily, too! Emily McKinnon. That's kind of funny but I guess it's not totally crazy since Emily's a common name. Not like Brahms.”  


“Or Penelope,” Brahms countered.  


“Actually, it's getting more popular. Mostly just the diminutive though. Penny.” She stopped in the middle of the room as Brahms switched on a light. Surprisingly, it came on, revealing furniture draped in white sheets. “Wow, it doesn't look half bad in here.”  


“I think my father's maintained it. I suspect he's come out here plenty of times to...”  


Penny waited but he didn't finish. “To...?” she prompted him.  


“I don't know,” he muttered. “Have some time to himself, I suppose.”  


“I can see why he'd want to escape,” Penny said. She walked over to the mantle and squinted up at the water color hanging above it. “His life's pretty weird.”  


Brahms spun to face her, his face dark. “I told you not to make fun of me anymore.”  


She stared back at him, wide-eyed. “I'm not. I swear, I'm not.”  


“Good.” He went into the kitchen and put his food in the fridge. Penny followed and peeked her head into the room. The design of the kitchen was pretty dated, probably not having any renovations since the early 90s. It made sense. Ever since Brahms's alleged death, the Heelshires seemed stuck in time. Maybe one day Brahms would explain it to her.  


“You should get to bed soon if you want to be up early,” Penny said. “It's important that you make an appearance quickly. It'll seem weird if you move here and don't check in at the big house. Especially after the weird shit Greta went through tonight.”  


Brahms finished arranging everything in the fridge and looked over at her. “All right.” He closed the door. “What are you going to do?”  


“I'm going to look around the house, find more stuff to bring over here to give this place some personality. Probably get your TV over here, too. Some of my books as well, if I'm going to be haunting this place now.”  


He accepted the stack of linens she handed to him and listened to the rest of the instructions she imparted to him. “I'll come wake you in the morning. I need to make sure to let Greta out of the attic in time for your dad's phone call.”  


“What about Malcolm?” Brahms asked lowly.  


Penny sighed. “Well, I think he suspected that he was gonna get stood up. He barely checked to make sure Greta was okay. If she'd been super into the date, he would have found a way inside to check on her. Or called. I mean, we were both right there and I never heard the phone ring, did you?”  


“No.”  


“Exactly. I told you he was a try hard and the hallmark of a try hard is that they're insecure. As Aaron, you're going to be a little insecure but in a different way. You're someone who's been hurt and you're unsure of people and their motivations. So you're gonna come across a little stand-offish, but you'll be receptive to any kindness she shows you. It's a delicate balance but I'll help you.” Penny pinched her bottom lip thoughtfully and added, “She's probably going to call him though, to let him know what happened. So he's not out of the picture yet. I think he will be, though, so don't get discouraged early.”  


Brahms watched her for a moment with a strange look on his face. The he said softly, “Penny?”  


She dropped her fingers from her lip. “Yeah?”  


He opened his mouth but said nothing.  


“Well. Um.” She took a step back. “I better get moving your stuff. Get some sleep. And... well. Thanks for getting me out of the house. I was pretty freaked out.”  


He nodded and looked down at the sheets in his arms. “Well, you had a right to be. Neither of us know what you're capable of. It could have been dangerous or impossible or...”  


“Sand worms.”  


“Right.” He chuckled. “You're going to have to explain that one to me.”  


“Later,” Penny promised. “'Night, Brahms.”  


“Goodnight, Penny.”  


She gave him a quick smile and then hurried out the door to escape the sudden awkward feeling she had that made her feel fifteen again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that my life has settled down a bit, I can get back to this story! This chapter's a little shorter than usual but I should be updating again sometime this week so you shouldn't be left in suspense for too long!

“Okay, now run up the steps casually!”  


Brahms did as Penny ordered and then knocked on the door. He sent a questioning look her way and she held up a hand for about thirty seconds and then nodded. He knocked again, this time a little louder.  


When a full minute had passed, Penny said, “Good. Now go down the steps and look up at the house, shading your eyes a bit. Look hesitant.”  


Brahms clattered down the stairs and did his part as the new, uncertain handyman confused to find no one answering the door when supposedly the nanny should be there. But maybe the household was still asleep? It was early still.  


“You're doing great,” Penny called encouragingly. “Take a step back, but again, hesitate. Lean forward a little.” When he did that she said, “Now visibly think 'aw, fuck it' and go back to the cottage. Start fixing the place up, okay? I'll check in with you later.”  


When Brahms was gone, Penny walked through the door, still an unnerving experience, and went upstairs. She stood under the attic door and wondered how the hell she was going to get the damn thing open when Greta the Genius had taken the hook up with her.  


“Shit,” Penny muttered. So much had happened last night, she hadn't thought this part of it through as thoroughly. She had mostly been terrified by the thought of leaving the house. But hey, she'd done it, even if it had taken Brahms tugging her like a wayward child. She'd floated so easily down the steps that--  


Wait.  


Penny pinched her bottom lip in thought. Could she float? She knew she could kind of just drift down the stairs but could she actually, consciously float? It couldn't hurt to try. She shut her eyes tightly and concentrated. It helped to think of the scene in _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_ when Charlie and Grandpa Joe drink the Fizzy Lifting Drinks. When she opened her eyes, she was hovering a foot off the ground.  


“Oh!” She exclaimed and then dropped. Well, shit. She concentrated again but kept her eyes open this time and gradually she floated shakily up to the ceiling. She grabbed hold of the ladder and used her supernatural ghost strength to tug it down. It clattered loudly as it unfolded, the rungs thudding on the carpet.  


Greta, still clad in her towel, slowly walked down the stairs, clutching the hook. She looked around with wide, anxious eyes and crept carefully to her bedroom.  


“Now you're cautious,” Penny said caustically. She followed Greta and watched the other woman stare in disbelief at her dress and necklace draped right on the chair in the bathroom where she'd left them.  


“No way,” Greta whispered and Penny felt a little bad for her. This felt like she and Brahms were gaslighting Greta, but Penny wasn't about to let Brahms keep Greta keepsakes like a serial killer keeps trophies gathered from victims. So she'd ordered him to put back what he'd stolen.  


The phone rang and Greta yelped, dropping the hook with a metallic clang. She hurried to the phone and picked it up. “Hello?” She sat up a little straighter and pulled her towel more tightly around her body. “Good morning, Mr. Heelshire. No, I'm fine. So's Brahms.” She listened for a bit and then said. “Mr. Woodhouse? Oh, I uh, I was getting dressed when someone knocked on the door but I couldn't get to it in time. I guess that was him? I'll probably see him later. No, it's nice, I could use the company. Okay. Thank you for letting me know. Enjoy your vacation. Good bye.”  


Greta placed the phone back in its cradle and cast another baffled look around the room.  


Penny left, still feeling a little guilty but ultimately satisfied that her plan was plugging along pretty well so far.

~*~

Malcolm came around the corner to meet Greta on the landing. “I've searched every part of this very big and very weird house. No sign of anyone.”  


“Someone was here,” Greta insisted. “My dress and necklace were gone.”  


“The dress and necklace you found in the bathroom?” Malcolm asked, keeping his tone carefully neutral. But Greta wasn't an idiot and knew he was thinking she was unreasonable.  


“Well, who pulled these stairs down?” Greta asked. “If it wasn't you and it wasn't me, then who? Ghosts?” She expected him to laugh but instead he looked tense. “Malcolm...?”  


He avoided her eyes and then quickly said the expected thing. “Ghosts. Don't be daft. Of course there aren't any...”  


“Malcolm,” Greta said firmly, folding her arms. “What do you know?”  


“Nothing.” He met her eyes and she saw the honesty there. “I can honestly say that I've never seen anything in this house.”  


Greta frowned. “But there's still something you aren't telling me.”  


Malcolm drew in a deep breath. “Why don't we go meet that new handyman? Mr. Heelshire said he was arriving today.”  


“He's already been here,” Greta said. She allowed the subject change for the time being but fully intended to make Malcolm spill later. “I was trapped upstairs so I couldn't open the door when he knocked. I watched him through the window, though. He didn't hear me any better than you did when I called for help.”  


“I'm sorry,” Malcolm said sincerely.  


Greta allowed him a tiny smile. “I know. And you're forgiven.”  


“Right. Let's go meet this Aaron Woodhouse then, eh?” Malcolm led the way down the stairs. “I'm glad the Heelshires finally hired someone. It's always been me or Mr. Heelshire that took care of the grounds-keeping. But he's not getting any younger and it's not really my job to cut their lawn so...”  


“A nanny and a groundskeeper,” Greta said. “Isn't there a story about that?”  


“The Turn of the Screw,” Malcolm said. “Ghost story I believe.”  


They shared a look and Malcolm clammed up.

~*~

“I found this in the basement.” Penny set a clunky record player on the living room coffee table. “And a box of records. Really shocking stuff, there. Which of your parents was into glam rock?”  


Brahms looked up from where he was pulling dust covers off of the furniture. “That would be Dad. He was a big Ziggy Stardust fan, even saw Bowie play live a few times. Then he met Mum and she disapproved so he put the glitter away.”  


“That's too bad.” Penny knelt and attempted to blow the dust off the record player but remembered she had no air when the dust stayed right where it was. “Did he ever share any of it with you?”  


He shrugged. “I think he tried. When I was about six he put one of the records on for me but I didn't like it so he gave up.”  


“My mom liked David Bowie,” Penny said. “I didn't like his music much, either. But of course I liked all the stuff he wrote for Labyrinth. I've always loved that movie.”  


Brahms continued working with an air of disinterest. “Haven't seen it.”  


Penny sighed. She was going to have to work a lot more with Brahms. He was still as self-centered as a child, hardly ever asking any questions about herself and going glassy-eyed whenever she spoke about her own personal life. It really sucked that her only companion was her murderer who actually had the gall to be bored by her. At any other time, she'd have made a sarcastic comment but she'd promised to be nicer so she bit her tongue.  


The pair worked in silence and soon the living room was decent. All the drop cloths were off the furniture, folded up, and placed inside a cupboard. Brahms had found an old vacuum cleaner and the worn, old carpet was soon as clean as it was going to get. He was just turning his attention to a lamp that needed a new bulb when a knock came at the door.  


Brahms and Penny looked at one another, wide-eyed.  


“I'll go see who it is,” Penny said while at the same time Brahms said, “It's probably Greta.” She hurried to the window and stuck her head out. Popping back in, she said, “You're right and wrong. It's Greta but it's also Malcolm.”  


“Okay.” Brahms swallowed hard and Penny felt a little bad for him. Only a little.  


“I'm going to have to whisper to you, okay? I think Malcolm can hear me.”  


“When did Malcolm hear you?” Brahms asked, scowling.  


“Oh, get that stupid look off your face,” Penny snapped. “We don't have time for me to explain! Open the door and listen carefully to my instructions. I'll be right behind you.”  


Brahms looked mutinous for a few seconds and then willed his face blank. He went to the door and opened it, blocking the room from view as per Penny's whispered instructions.  


“Er, hello,” Brahms said.  


Malcolm and Greta took in the burns on his face with surprise but then quickly masked that surprise with polite smiles. Malcolm stepped forward and held out a hand which Brahms shook. “Hello, I'm Malcolm. Local grocer and friend of the Heelshires. This is Greta, the nanny.”  


“Hi,” Greta said, also shaking Brahms's hand. “And you're Aaron...?”  


“Woodhouse,” Brahms said reluctantly. “Yes, hello. Ah, I'm afraid the house isn't really suitable for....”  


Malcolm nodded in understanding “No, no of course not. I think I've seen Mr. Heelshire enter this house a grand total of five times. I hope the plumbing still works?”  


“It's a bit rough but I can fix it,” Brahms said.  


“Good.” Malcolm nodded again. “Of course you can. Ah...” He frowned a little and then said, “Ah, anyway. If you ever need anything, Greta can give you my number. Are the phone lines...?”  


“Not quite yet.”  


“Right. You only got here this morning?”  


“Yes.”  


Malcolm was looking more and more confused and Greta sent him a weird look before smiling over at Brahms. “We should let you get settled in. It was nice to meet you.”  


“You as well.” Brahms smiled and then took a step back. “Goodbye.”  


“Bye.”  


Brahms closed the door and released a breath. “How was that?”  


“Great. You sounded very natural. Uncomfortable with people but not antagonistic or anything. Polite. It worked.” Penny looked around the house. “I'll get going on the plumbing so you can take a shower in the morning. And you're going to need to bathe every day, Brahms. Especially if you're going to be doing yard work. Sweat equals stink equals Greta barfs when she smells you.”  


“Thanks,” Brahms said dryly but smiled a little when Penny laughed, her eyes sparkly in that new way he liked. When she drifted up the stairs, he went into the kitchen to start putting it to rights.

~*~

“He seemed okay,” Greta said. “He's a lot younger than I was expecting.”  


“Mmm.” Malcolm hadn't spoken since they'd left Aaron's cottage.  


Greta gave him a concerned look. “Are you okay?”  


“I'm fine,” Malcolm said. “It's just... Didn't you hear that?”  


“Hear what?”  


“Just before Aaron spoke, there was this whispering. Like someone was feeding him his lines. It took awhile for me to pick up on it, it just sort of sounded like a hissing at first. Didn't you hear it?”  


“No,” Greta said. Her face was one big question mark. “Malcolm, are you sure you're okay?”  


“Fine,” he said again and looked back at the cottage, face inscrutable. “I'm fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to "The Turn of the Screw" by Henry James. And yeah, yeah, Quint was actually a valet and not a groundskeeper but I liked the line so it stays. :P


	7. Chapter 7

It took about three hours but Penny got the plumbing working. Unsure if the hot water was actually running hot since she couldn't feel temperature herself, Penny called down the stairs, “Hey, Brahms? Can you test out the hot water in the kitchen? Tell me if it's working?”  


She heard him walk across the room and then he called back, “It's fine!”  


Penny switched off the bathroom light and drifted down the stairs. “You could probably even take a shower tonight if you wanted. It might not be a bad idea. You're probably all dusty and sweaty from the work we did in here today. Things look a lot better, though, don't they?”  


Brahms was heating up some leftover meatloaf in the oven and stood in front of it, arms folded. “Mmm.”  


She eyed his tensed back. “What's up?” Penny asked warily.  


“Well, I was wondering if now was the time you were going to tell me all about these long conversations you've been having with Malcolm,” Brahms said snidely. “Or were you going to wait for another inopportune moment to mention something important like that?”  


Penny managed to refrain from rolling her eyes but it was definitely a struggle. “We can talk about it now, sure. It's really not that big of a deal.”  


“Not that big of a deal?” Brahms spun to face her and he looked furious. She unconsciously took a step back. He'd seemed so fine earlier, right after their “first meeting” with Malcolm and Greta, that she had no idea he'd been stewing for hours.  


“No.” She blinked and tried to look tougher. _He can't hurt me anymore. No one can. The worst has already happened._ “Malcolm heard me when I was snarking on his conversation with Greta. He couldn't hear me well, though. Not like you can. It was more like... he could make out that someone was speaking but not any actual words. In fact, he seemed to think he was talking to you. Allegedly dead eight year-old Brahms.”  


Brahms went to the cupboard and took down a plate, slapping it down hard onto the counter. Penny hoped it didn't crack; there weren't that many plates in the cottage. “You expect me to believe that? You said 'Maybe I'm not' when I warned you that you were going to be trapped here if you didn't help me. How do I know you two aren't planning something together?”  


“We aren't,” Penny said flatly. “And even if we were, why would you care?”  


“I don't!” Brahms barked. “So what did you mean by that? 'Maybe I'm not?'” He pitched his voice high in an unflattering, stupid imitation of her own voice.  


Penny rubbed at her forehead with the heel of her palm. “Why are you acting like this? You were fine earlier. You always... god, it's like you dwell on every little thing and then work yourself up into a state. You need to chill out.”  


“What did you mean by 'maybe I'm not'?” Brahms insisted in a low, dangerous tone.  


She knew she was just doing what he wanted but she couldn't suppress her flare up of rage. “It meant that maybe I could talk to someone else besides a big, jerk of a man baby! Someone who could help me move on to the other side! That maybe you weren't my only contact in this realm, that maybe I'm not fucking stuck with you!” She balled her hands up into fists. “There! Are you satisfied now? Why does everything have to be a fight with you?!”  


Brahms's voice got deeper and more dangerous. “I told you to stop insulting me.”  


“That's not fair!” Penny's voice broke. “You always provoke me! Meanwhile, I gave you a makeover and I got you a new identity and set up a home for you and even got your parents in on it so that you'll be earning your own money! And you haven't ever thanked me! You're so god damned selfish! Can't you think of anyone else for two seconds?”  


He stared at her and then turned to the stove, pulling out his meal. Then he folded his arms and stared down at the meatloaf, not moving. Penny was about to leave but then he finally spoke.  


“I'm bad at this,” he said dully.  


“Heating up meatloaf?” Penny asked, trying for sarcasm but mostly just sounded tired.  


“You know what I mean.”  


Penny's eyes closed. “Yeah.”  


“I'm... I'm going to be bad at talking. At trying to have conversations. Don't think I haven't seen the look on your face when we're talking. I know that I'm not good at... well. Anything. I was bad at social interaction even before I ended up in the walls. You're not going to understand because you're good at everything. You can talk and fix plumbing and work out that a house isn't haunted and give a man a haircut and a shave.”  


“I went to a Montessori school,” Penny said with the hint of a smile.  


Brahms turned to look at her and she was shocked to see tears in his eyes. “I don't even know what that means.”  


“It's...” But she trailed off as he rubbed his arm across his eyes and sniffed once, hard.  


“Malcolm already has Greta. I guess, I just... don't want him to have you, too.”  


Penny pursed her lips. “You know, people can have more than one friend.”  


“Are we friends?” he sounded surprised.  


“Um. Well. No. Not really.” Penny laughed humorlessly. “Do you even want to be my friend?”  


He looked back at her, his face slightly pink. “Yes.”  


Not expecting that answer, Penny took another step back. “Oh.”  


“After I finish my dinner, can we practice conversations?” Brahms asked, sounding sad. “You can't speak for me all the time, especially if Malcolm can apparently hear you.”  


“He's not going to be here all the time,” Penny said. “But yeah. We can practice. Then you can seduce Greta on your own and I don't have to be your Cyrano de Bergerac.” She took another step back. “I'll just be reading in the other room.”  


Brahms watched her retreat without another word.

~*~

With his dinner eaten and the dishes washed, Brahms came out to the lounge to find Penny curled up with one of her books. She'd spent all last night carrying them over from the Heelshire library. The effort was worth it for her, though. He stood in the doorway and watched the fascination on her face, her eyes eagerly following the words on the page. He hated to interrupt her, especially after he'd lashed out at her earlier. It had made him so angry, though, imagining Penny talking to Malcolm. Chatting together. Laughing. Malcolm was always making jokes and could even make Brahms's mother smile. If Penny had lived, she would have gotten on famously with Malcolm.  


“Penny,” Brahms said quietly.  


Penny blinked, drew in a deep breath, and then looked up at him with no recognition in her eyes. Then she blinked again. “Oh, hi. Are you ready?”  


“Yes.” He shuffled awkwardly into the room and dropped onto the sofa. Penny was curled up in a comfy stuffed chair that he could remember Emily bouncing on and screaming that she was riding a bucking bronco. “Er... so...”  


“So,” Penny agreed. She placed her book on the coffee table and raised her eyebrows at him. “Should I start with an assessment of your conversational skills or should we dive right in?”  


“Assessment?” Brahms asked, frowning.  


“To let you know what you need to improve. Point out problem areas.”  


His shoulders hunched. “I don't need that. You already told me I'm selfish.”  


“Right. Do you know how to fix that?”  


He shook his head and could feel his rage igniting low in his belly. But her next words tossed cold water on it when she said, “Okay, then we'll work on that now. A big way of not completely monopolizing a conversation is to ask questions about the other person. Considering how few life experiences you've had, you should have tons of questions. Like, what do you want to ask me right now?”  


“Like, right this second?” Brahms asked, feeling confused.  


Penny kept her face carefully neutral but he had the sense she wanted to roll her eyes. “I guess? Or something you've wanted to ask at any other time. The idea is to get a conversation going, Brahms. Just ask something.”  


He rubbed his hands awkwardly on his thighs and then said, “Did. Um. Did you go on a graduation trip to Venice?”  


For a moment she stared at him blankly and then said, “Oh.” A little shame-faced she said, “No, I didn't go to Venice then. When I graduated high school, I went on a class trip to Mexico. We explored some old ruins and hung out on the beach.”  


“But you've been to Venice?” Brahms pressed.  


“I spent a semester abroad in Rome and I made sure to take the train to Venice a few times. It's a really beautiful city, definitely worth the hype. Unlike Paris.” Penny shrugged with a little laugh. “Anyway.”  


“What's wrong with Paris?” Brahms asked.  


“Oh... nothing, really. The people are pretty snotty but everyone knows that so it's not like anyone goes there and it's a huge surprise. If you at least attempt to speak French, they're cool with you. So long as you don't come at them in English right away.” Penny shrugged again, looking embarrassed. “I liked this one Parisian guy a lot. We were going to school in Rome at the same time and he invited me during a holiday break to stay with him in Paris. I got so excited and packed all these cute dresses and sexy underwear and stuff. Then we get there and all he wants to talk about is my friend Lisse. He wanted to get me alone so I could give him advice on how to date her. The experience kind of ruined Paris for me.”  


Brahms winced. “No wonder. Am I... anything like this Frenchman? By having you help me with Greta?”  


Penny's eyes widened. “No! Not at all. You haven't been misleading about your intentions.”  


His expression smoothed out. “Okay, good. Er...”  


She startled him by starting to laugh. It was a good laugh, not her mean hateful one, but a gentle one that sounded like it was bubbling up out of her. Her eyes flashed with that sparkle that made him foolishly happy.  


“Oh my god, Brahms. I'm sorry, your head looks like it's gonna explode if you have to think of one more question. It's fine, you've asked enough. And good job, by the way. You didn't just ask like, a weird laundry list of questions. It flowed naturally into the conversation.” Penny giggled to herself a little bit and then pinched her lower lip for a moment before saying, “Could I ask some stuff?”  


“What kind of stuff?” Brahms asked cautiously.  


“Just... some stuff I was wondering about.” Penny shrugged a shoulder. “They told me a bit about you. Well. When I died and thought I was moving on, they showed me this sort of short film of some of the stuff you've done. It was pretty horrific. Mostly I want to know: why did you kill Emily? You were so young and it was such a vicious murder, worse than what you did to me.”  


“Who's 'they'?” Brahms asked, dodging the question.  


Looking annoyed, Penny said, “I don't really know how to answer that. I didn't see anybody. And I didn't... I didn't hear anybody either. It's complicated. But someone communicated with me and gave me this little mission to earn my wings or whatever.”  


Brahms looked down at the book on the coffee table. He knew he should answer her question but that would require having to think about Emily and that terrible day. He didn't want to think of her on the forest floor with her head crushed. Penny had every right to be curious but it wasn't something he felt he could touch on, not right now.  


“What have you been reading?” Brahms asked instead.  


Penny searched his face for a moment and then looked down at the book on the coffee table, heaving a resigned sigh. “Oh, nothing really. It's a book of ghost stories by M.R. James. Ever read anything by him?”  


“No.”  


“Ah. He's good. His characters are usually stuffy academic types who then have spooky shit happen to them. One of the stories 'Whistle and I'll Come to You, My Lad' kept me awake all night when I first read it. The BBC did a really good adaptation of it back in the 60s that I found on YouTube. If we had internet here, I'd show it to you.” Penny got a whimsical look on her face, glancing over his shoulder. “Man, I miss the internet. Never thought I'd actually say that.”  


Brahms cleared his throat. “I've never used the internet.”  


“No, you wouldn't have. You went into seclusion in 1991 before it was commonly used. I still remember when Grandma got us AOL. The first thing we looked up was Jonathan Taylor Thomas.” Penny chuckled and pressed a hand to her face. “God, I haven't thought about him in years.”  


“Who is he?”  


“J.T.T.? He was a teen heart-throb.” Penny dropped her hand back into her lap. “Anyway, I doubt you'd care much about him. Go take your shower, make sure the hot water holds out long enough. If it doesn't, I'll tinker with it in the morning. We've got a big day tomorrow so you need to rest up.”  


Brahms stood a little reluctantly. Now that they were having a real conversation, he wanted to talk more. He liked that Penny always had a plan but he didn't like the way she always seemed to shuffle him off to the next activity like he was a child. Well. She'd been hired to be his nanny, after all. It made a kind of sense.  


“What happens tomorrow?” Brahms asked.  


Penny raised her eyebrows. “You start earning your keep. Yard work. Lawn mowing. I took a walk earlier and saw the flowerbeds here; they're pitiful. We'll do it all together, don't worry. And maybe if it looks like you're working hard enough, Greta will bring you a nice cool drink.”  


“You think?” Brahms asked hopefully, making Penny laugh in that nice bubbling way again.  


“Maybe. I'd have brought you something, at least.” She reached for her book, wordlessly dismissing him.  


Brahms still lingered though he shuffled a few steps toward the stairs, hoping he didn't look like he was trying to drag this out longer. “Don't scare yourself too much reading that book.”  


He regretted his words when Penny's warm smile turned bitter. “I won't. My real life has gotten much scarier than this stuff.” She opened the book and immersed herself in fiction once more, her only escape from her new, scary reality apparently.  


Brahms went upstairs without saying anything else and took his shower. The hot water was perfect.


	8. Chapter 8

Far from the house was an out building, almost hidden among the trees. It was in the opposite direction of Brahms and Penny's cottage and if Brahms hadn't insisted it was there, Penny would have thought he was making it up. But here they were, seven a.m., and Brahms was unlocking the big padlock on the door and then pulling it open. It gave out a loud, metallic screech and Penny winced.  


“Fuck. If that didn't wake Greta up, nothing will. Maybe get some WD-40 for it later.”  


“Is that a tax document?” Brahms asked.  


Penny looked at him sharply. “Was that a joke?”  


“Yes.” He took a couple of steps into the storage building, squinting into the blackness.  


“Pretty good joke,” Penny mumbled and followed him in. She looked around at the walls, seeing various tools mounted neatly on pegs. There was a car under a blue plastic tarp that she was interested in but Brahms was moving past that to the riding lawn mower in the corner. “Wow, modern. I was kind of expecting a push mower with no motor.”  


Brahms snorted. “My father couldn't have mowed the lawns for this many years with a push mower, Penny.”  


She side-eyed him a bit and wondered when he got so good at being quippy but ultimately decided not to comment on this change. She kind of liked it. This, she could deal with. Snarly, jealous Brahms was someone she had no use for. “Does it need gas?”  


Inside a metal locker, Brahms lifted out a red gas tank and lugged it to the machine, looking capable. Then he paused and gave Penny an uncertain look. She stepped in and saw the gas tank was locked, the keys being on a peg inside the locker. Then she unlocked it, ascertained that the mower needed some gas, and poured about a quarter of the can inside.  


“There,” Penny said in satisfaction. “Hop on, Brahms. I'll give you a mini driving lesson but you'll catch on quick. It's super easy.”  


With her direction, he was able to start the machine and then steer it out of the garage. Penny perched behind the seat, something that would have been horribly dangerous had she been alive, and pointed out the controls and advised him on the best ways to mow, directing him to overlap the lines he was making in the grass to ensure that he didn't leave any spare grass blades behind.  


“Don't say anything to me,” Penny said in his ear. “You'd have to shout to be heard and you'll look like a nutcase yelling to yourself.” That made Brahms smirk a little. “Well, you would! Shouty McGee arguing with thin air while he mows his yard.”  


Brahms chuckled and steered the machine closer to the house.

~*~

It took about an hour and a half to get all the lawns on the Heelshire grounds mowed and as they were finishing up the grass around the house, they saw Greta on the porch, hugging herself. She was dressed and wrapped in a long cardigan. When she saw Brahms looking in her direction, she lifted a hand in greeting.  


“Wave back, doofus,” Penny said, amused, as Brahms did nothing.  


Brahms lifted a hand quickly and continued mowing. When they were finished, Penny told him to shut the motor off and he did. Greta was still on the porch.  


“Good morning!” she called over.  


“Morning!” He slid out of the seat and started bending and straightening his knees. “Sorry if I woke you.”  


“It's okay.”  


“Get closer and talk to her,” Penny hissed.  


Brahms walked up to the porch. “I wanted to get an early start since I wasn't sure what the weather was going to do later.” They both looked up at the gray sky that was either going to turn into rain or blow away into sunshine.  


“Ah. Have you had breakfast yet? I was just about to make some bacon and eggs if you're interested?”  


“I'd love some, thanks.” Brahms followed Greta into the house and sat down at the table. Penny sat down next to him and fed him his next line. “Is the kid still asleep? Brahms?”  


Greta paused for a moment with the refrigerator door open and then said oddly, “Yeah. He's... asleep.”  


Brahms folded his arms on the table and said lowly. “When I was mowing out there, I saw a gravestone. Er... it had his name on it. Brahms. I didn't know if.... well. It's a little--”  


“Just a minute,” Greta said suddenly. “I'll be right back.” She shut the fridge and quickly left the room before he could respond.  


“Er, what did...?” Brahms looked to Penny.  


“It's fine,” she reassured him. “Wait. I think she's getting the doll.”  


Sure enough, in the next couple of minutes, Greta returned with doll Brahms on her hip. She presented him to human Brahms who, at Penny's direction, looked bemused.  


“This is Brahms,” Greta said, watching human Brahms's face intently.  


Brahms looked from the doll to Greta. “So... they pay you to play with a doll all day?”  


“Basically.” Greta set the doll in a chair and folded her arms. “The real Brahms died in a fire when he was eight. The Heelshires have been using this doll to cope with the loss. It's been twenty years since it happened.”  


“Oh.” Brahms reached out a hand and lightly fingered the fabric of the doll's jacket. “Nicely made. They've spent a lot of time and money on this.” He looked directly at Greta and stated, “They've put a lot of trust in your hands.”  


A look of guilt creeped across Greta's face. “They have. Yeah.” She turned back to the fridge and went about gathering ingredients.  


“Do you need help?” Brahms asked, starting to stand up.  


“No, of course not, sit down. You've been working all morning; take a break.”  


“I've been sitting all morning,” Brahms pointed out but didn't try to get up again.  


Greta flashed him a little smile that made Brahms catch his breath. “You know what I mean.” She whisked some eggs and milk into a bowl and said, “So where are you from, Aaron?”  


“Yorkshire, originally. After my parents died when I was ten, I went to live with my aunt in London. Been there ever since. At least until recently.” Brahms quieted and stared moodily out the window.  


Looking at him curiously over her shoulder, Greta said, “Were you a groundskeeper before this, too?”  


“Yes.” Brahms said and then added reluctantly, “I enjoy being outdoors.”  


Greta poured the eggs into the frying pan and asked, “Do you want a cup of tea?”  


“Yes, please.”  


When Greta poured him a cup and handed it to him, he politely lifted it up toward her and murmured his thanks before taking a sip. They were both quiet for several minutes, Greta cooking and Brahms sipping his tea. He kept looking to Penny, wondering if he should be asking questions like she'd trained him but she kept shaking her head and mouthing “Not yet” at him.  


As soon as breakfast was on the table and they were seated across from each other, Penny directed Brahms to say, “Thank you. I really appreciate this. I was actually running a little low on supplies. I'm going to work on Mr. Heelshire's old car out in the garage later and see if I can get that running. Maybe make a trip into town for a few things. Is there anything I could pick up for you?”  


Greta smiled at him again, her eyes so warm and kind that Brahms almost dribbled tea on himself. Penny laughed her bubbly laugh which made him smile sheepishly and cut a quick little glance in her direction.  


“Thanks for the offer but I'm good for awhile, I think. Malcolm brought groceries not that long ago.”  


Brahms nodded. “Okay. If you change your mind, I'm just...” He pointed in the vague direction of the cottage.  


Greta dug into her eggs and started to eat. He noticed she ate in little bites, looking distracted as she did so, as if her mind were miles away. Maybe thinking of Cole. Or perhaps the circumstances that brought her here. It couldn't have been anything happy. Penny came here after a major break-up, after all. She had no one else in the world except this Chris who stomped on her heart just before they were to be married. Greta probably had an equally as sad story that she wouldn't appreciate him raking up by asking why on earth she'd wanted a job like this. It was so quiet at the table, though, he felt as if he should say something. She'd been kind enough to make him breakfast, after all. He looked to Penny for guidance but she was sitting with her chin propped in her hand, looking bored. No help there.  


“Wh- where do you come from?” Brahms asked, his first sentence all on his own. Penny looked over at him sharply and then her features relaxed, giving him a little nod. That nod helped untie the knot he'd made in his stomach by just asking this little innocuous question.  


“Montana,” she said. “It's in America.”  


“Right,” Brahms said awkwardly. “I uh, I don't know that one. Just California, New York, and Florida. Everything else is kind of...”  


She smiled, understanding. “No one over here has really heard of it. It's not in New England and doesn't have any Disney theme parks. But it's nice. We call it Big Sky Country. It's also home of the Rocky Mountains.”  


“I've never been to the mountains,” Brahms said. “What's it like?”  


Greta sighed softly. “Beautiful. There's all this green everywhere and the mountains are all snow-capped and lovely. We used to go on vacation to Yellowstone when I was a kid and we'd camp there for weeks. I used to love the bison. They're enormous and I always wanted to go pet one but my parents wouldn't let me.” She laughed softly to herself. “Of course, they were right. It would have been dangerous. They were bigger than our car, after all.”  


Brahms watched her, admiring the fall of her hair around her face. Though she was smiling, there was still something sad back in her eyes. He looked over at Penny to see if she had any suggestions for what he should say next.  


“You're doing fine on your own,” she said quietly.  


He begged her with his eyes to suggest something until she took pity on him and Brahms repeated her, “Well, no bison out here, I'm afraid.”  


Greta laughed. “Not much of anything out here.”  


“That's true,” Brahms said. The two of them looked ruefully around the kitchen and then went back to eating. He was nearly finished with what he had on his plate and felt a little relieved. As nice as Greta was, this whole enterprise of conversing with a real person for such a long length of time was exhausting. He wanted to go back to the garage with Penny and help her fix the car. Her face had lit up like Christmas when she'd seen it and he knew she was eager to show off more of her Montessori learning, whatever that was.  


Greta glanced at his plate and then up at his face. “Do you want more?”  


“Oh, no, thank you. This was very good but I really do need to get back to work.” Brahms stood and picked up his last piece of bacon. He held it up and nodded his head to Greta. “Thanks for this. Really.”  


“You're welcome.” Greta stood as well and picked up his plate.  


Guiltily, Brahms reached for it. “Wait, I'm sorry, I can wash that.”  


“Aaron, it's okay. I've got this. Thanks for keeping me company.” She smiled and he went still, just basking in her loveliness. “If you ever get hungry, come on over, okay? There's always plenty over here. Maybe even too much.”  


Brahms nodded. “Of course. I'd be glad to. Have a good day, Greta.”  


“You too.”  


He nodded again and went to the door, letting himself out. Penny drifted along beside him and once they were through the trees and out of view of the house she suddenly squealed and threw her arms around his neck, startling him into almost dropping the bacon he'd been munching on.  


“EEEEEEEEEE! Brahms that was _great_! She really liked you!” Penny loosened her grip and drifted in front of him, walking backwards so she could still face him. “I barely needed to help you.”  


“I just did the question thing you taught me, that's all,” Brahms said but he could feel his face getting warm. He hadn't seen Penny like this before, so excited. He'd seen her sparkle here and there but this was a full shine just radiating from her and it made his heart twist. Part of him wanted to reach out and run a hand over the golden hair tumbling over her shoulders but he held himself back; he still had greasy bacon in his hand after all.  


“Well, you applied the lesson well,” Penny said. She fell back to his side as the out building where the car was stored came into view.  


Brahms cleared his throat. “Can we still practice conversations every night? So I can keep getting better?”  


“If you want. In the mean time, I want to take a look at this car!” Penny hurried ahead and Brahms chuckled at her eagerness, polishing off the last of his slice of bacon.

~*~

Penny had been intrigued to find out the Heelshires had a car in the garage but once they ripped the tarp back and revealed it to be a model from the eighties, she was even more thrilled.  


“This is old enough that it actually has parts and isn't just run by a computer,” she informed Brahms. “Hand me that key ring, will you?”  


He reached into his pocket and tossed her the keys. She caught them neatly and flipped through the ring until she found the one labeled FORD and eagerly slipped into the car without opening the door. She put the key in the ignition and wasn't terribly surprised when the car didn't wake up.  


“Challenge accepted,” she murmured. Getting out, she popped the hood and started pointing out the parts to Brahms, explaining what each one did. He stood with his hands in his pockets, nodding, and Penny figured he wasn't really paying attention. Well, that was fine. It wasn't like there would be a test later. She'd do all the work and he could just hand her tools when she asked for them.  


She got to work poking about in the engine but gradually grew annoyed with the long, flannel sleeves of her nightgown. It wasn't getting tangled in the machinery or anything like that, but they wouldn't stay rolled up her arms.  


“I wish I was wearing something more sensible for this,” she grumbled.  


Brahms gave out a shout of alarm and Penny spun to face him, eyes wide. “What? What's wrong?”  


He pointed at her and she looked down and gasped.  


Instead of the plaid flannel nightgown that had made Chris call her “Ma Ingalls” she was dressed in skinny jeans, red Converse, and a gray and navy blue baseball tee. She reached a hand up to her hair and realized it wasn't loose over her shoulders anymore, but back in a ponytail. She stared at Brahms in disbelief.  


“I wish this car was a Jaguar and we were cruising the Autobahn like bad motherfuckers.”  


They still stood in the garage staring at each other.  


Penny sighed. “Well, it was worth a try. I guess I have more control over myself than I realized.”  


“What else can you do?” Brahms asked.  


“Nothing. Oh! Wait, no. I can float. Watch.” Penny concentrated and levitated off the ground, making Brahms take a few steps back, his jaw practically hitting the ground.  


“How long have you been able to do this?” he demanded.  


Penny touched back down and quickly reassured him. “I only found out yesterday when I had to get Greta out of the attic. Lots of stuff has happened in the meantime, it's why I didn't tell you. It isn't a secret or anything but I'm sorry I didn't say something sooner.”  


He nodded slowly. “Okay. I guess you were using that power earlier on the mower since there's really no earthly way you could have stayed behind me without falling.”  


“Exactly.” She turned back to the car, bending over the opened hood once more. “Now let's see if I can get this baby humming today...” She was so occupied with auto repair, she didn't realize that Brahms had fallen mostly silent, staring at the way the denim of her jeans clung to her round, heart-shaped ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about cars and I especially know nothing about English cars, so I won't be going into depth on the car repair. :P But they DO need something to get around and not be so damn isolated so... that's why the car stays in the story!


	9. Chapter 9

“I don't know how much practice you really need, Brahms,” Penny was saying as she dried the dish he handed to her. “You did really well with Greta today. You probably could have gone over and had dinner with her tonight, too.”  


Brahms carefully cleaned out his drinking glass, not looking at Penny. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off of her since they got home a few hours earlier. They'd spent the entire morning working on the car but apparently there were some parts they needed which had forced them to stop. Then Penny suggested he go have lunch with Greta while he was “all sweaty and covered in oil; women love that kind of thing” and he'd been so flustered by that description, he'd gone right over to the house. Greta's eyes had widened at the sight of him but she'd let him ransack the freezer for left-overs. They hadn't said much as they ate; Penny hadn't come in with him and he found that without her there, he had no idea how to even begin a conversation. Greta didn't seem to know, either. She'd mostly just asked about his day and he had to censor his reply because the most interesting parts of his day had been things Penny had said or done.  


After lunch, he'd met up with Penny at the cottage, where she was inside the walls, figuring out the phone line. It had taken a boat load of swearing and at least two hours but the cottage now had a working telephone. Then she'd suggested they walk the perimeter of the property to take note of anything else that might need to be done. On their walk they found a dilapidated fence that could do with some repairs and a dead falling tree that should be pulled down completely. The whole walk, Penny kept darting ahead of him, exclaiming over every little thing. It should have been annoying but he found that it rather wasn't.  


When they'd come home so Brahms could clean up and change, he'd emerged from the bathroom to find Penny lounging on the sofa downstairs with a book and in new clothes she'd wished for herself: a loose black crop top without a collar which hung off of one shoulder and patterned leggings that looked like fish scales. She'd misinterpreted his stare and had said a little sheepishly, “This was my favorite bumming around at home outfit. I know I look kind of stupid but it's comfy.”  


“You don't look stupid,” he'd said and gone right into the kitchen to heat up left-over chicken parmigiana. He hadn't said much to her at all from that point forward, until she'd come in to help him with the dishes and he'd asked her if she could help him with his conversational skills again.  


Brahms looked over at her now and his eyes landed on her bare shoulder. She had a little configuration of freckles there that drew his attention like a bulls-eye. “You weren't there at lunch. It was a disaster. We hardly said anything.”  


“That's okay, though,” Penny said. “Aaron isn't a chatty Cathy, after all. As long as you responded when Greta said anything to you, you probably did okay. Did she invite you to dinner?”  


“Kind of. She did this morning when she said to come over anytime I'm hungry.”  


“Hmm. Okay. So she didn't specifically say, 'Hey, wanna come over for dinner tonight, too?'”  


“No.”  


Penny nodded. “Okay. Then it isn't weird that you had dinner over here instead.” She took the glass out of his hand. “This is probably clean enough, Brahms. You only drank water from it.” Her eyes had that little teasing sparkle again as she dried the glass thoroughly.  


Brahms slowly dried his hands on the dishtowel Penny handed him before she turned to put the dishes away. His eyes strayed down to her ass for the umpteenth time that day. She looked even better in the leggings than she had in the jeans, and she'd looked fantastic in the jeans.  


Penny faced him once more and he guiltily jolted and made a big show out of hanging the towel up to dry. “Okay, let's go settle down in the lounge and we'll talk.” She led the way into the other room and did a little skipping hop onto the chair, letting him have the sofa. “So. What do you want to focus on?”  


“I don't know,” Brahms mumbled.  


“Well, what was the problem at lunch?” Penny persisted.  


“I just... didn't know how to begin,” he said, his shoulders starting to hunch.  


“Did you ask how her day was? That's a pretty good conversation starter,” Penny said.  


“No. That's what she asked me.”  


Penny nodded. “Good. And you answered?”  


“Yes. I told her about the car and how it needed parts. She said the next time Malcolm came, we might be able to get a ride with him into town.”  


“Oooh, a town trip with Malcolm.” Penny's eyes lit up. “Fun.”  


He sent her a dirty look. “That's right, the handsome, interesting grocery man.”  


“Who's also a try hard, remember?” Penny said crisply. “Anyway. So asking about someone's day is a good conversation opener. Maybe a comment about the weather. Or tell her something about your own day that you think she might be interested in. I don't know, Brahms, the possibilities are endless.”  


“You make it sound so easy,” Brahms grumbled. “It really isn't.”  


“It really is,” Penny insisted. “You just need practice. Which we're doing right now. Maybe tomorrow you should avoid me entirely and then we can talk in the evening. You start the conversation. How about that?”  


Brahms's look got even darker. “You'd like to avoid me all day, wouldn't you?”  


“That's not...” Penny dropped her head back against the chair and groaned. “Brahms, come on. I just meant that if we spent time apart, there'd be more for us to talk about rather than, 'Hey, remember this morning when I dropped a wrench and it made you yelp? Boy, you're easily startled, Penny!'”  


He wanted to keep being angry with her but he had to laugh. “It's just funny to me that a ghost could be scared of anything.”  


Penny giggled. “I know, right? But I've always been pretty easily startled. I always jump during horror movies, even when I see the jump scare coming a mile away. It's just the way I am.”  


“Do you like horror movies?” Brahms asked, raising his eyebrows.  


“Not so much anymore. When I was younger, yeah. But anytime I watch them, I have a hard time sleeping. And I realllly like sleep.” She got a sad, wistful look on her face. “Man, do I miss sleeping. Being awake 24/7 is kind of a bummer.”  


Brahms cleared his throat and didn't know what to say. It was all his fault that she wasn't able to sleep anymore. It would probably be best if he changed the subject. “So,uh, what's a Montessori school?”  


Penny gave him a baffled look before she seemed to remember referencing it. “Ohhh, right. Uh, Brahms, I was kidding. Montessori schools are where the students decide what they learn, hands on, based on what they're interested in or curious about in the moment. Then the teacher kind of guides them through it. I never actually went to one, though my grandmother looked into it when I was a kid. She didn't like the director, though, so I just went to a normal public school.”  


“So how did you learn how to do... everything?” Brahms asked.  


“Well, uh, I went to school,” Penny said, leaving the 'duh' unspoken. “And then for everything else, my grandmother invested in property around town and I'd ride along with her handyman when he went to do repairs. I um, sort of had a huge crush on him so any chance to spend time with him, I totally leaped at.”  


Brahms frowned a little. “A crush?”  


“Yeah. Oh, it was completely innocent. I was only about twelve and he was in his thirties and married. But he had this longish red hair and a really great beard. I don't know, I can't explain it.” Penny laughed, looking embarrassed. “His name was Connor. I was over the moon for him until I got my first boyfriend.”  


“When was that?” Brahms asked, starting to feel sulky.  


“I was fifteen. Uh, we don't need to talk about that,” Penny said, picking up on his darkening mood. “What else did you and Greta talk about at lunch?”  


Brahms sighed. “Nothing. I told you.”  


“You just sat there and chewed?”  


“Pretty much.”  


Penny laughed her nice laugh. “So you need me with you next time?”  


“God, yes.”  


She laughed some more and a smile reluctantly hovered at the corners of Brahms's mouth. He still wanted to be annoyed but it was too difficult when she was in such a good mood herself. Out of nowhere, he pictured her in her long nightgown again, squinting into the dark at the top of the stairs. “Brahms?” she'd whispered in disbelief. In a panic, he'd rushed forward, grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved backwards with all his strength. She'd let out a yelp, just one soft one, and she'd landed on the stairs with a thud, bounced, and when she hit again her neck snapped. She tumbled down the rest of the stairs, dead by the time she'd reached the bottom. Her sad, broken form contrasted so strongly with Penny seated cross-legged in her chair, laughing like they were old friends that his stomach lurched.  


Brahms suddenly got up from the sofa and Penny's eyes got big. “Brahms? Oh my god, you look terrible, are you--?”  


“Leave me alone,” he muttered and rushed upstairs to the loo where he locked himself in and was sick. When he'd vomited up all of his dinner, he closed the toilet lid and flushed, dropping his hot face into his hands, shaking. What the hell was wrong with him? He angrily wiped at the tears leaking from his eyes and took a shaky breath.  


There was a soft knock at the door. “Brahms? Are you okay?”  


“Go away,” Brahms called back, his voice trembling. Hearing her voice brought back that whispered _Brahms_ and his stomach rolled again. “I don't feel well.” When she didn't say anything else, he unspooled a bit of toilet roll and blew his nose. As soon as the weak, shaky feeling in his knees subsided, he stood and opened the door.  


Penny was standing in the hall, a glass of water in her hand. “Here,” she said softly and handed it to him. “You probably just had too much excitement today. I expected you to do too much. I'm sorry. Get some rest, Brahms. You did really well.”  


Tears stung his eyes as she turned and walked away. “Why are you being so nice to me?” he said harshly.  


She stopped and turned back to him, brows furrowed. “You asked me to. Remember?”  


He looked down into the glass of water. “You don't need to be this nice.”  


“Maybe. But I kind of think you need it. Goodnight, Brahms.” She padded off down the hall and then drifted down the stairs.  


When she'd gone, he took a sip of the water. Jesus, she'd even made sure it was extra cold. Sighing shakily, Brahms went to his bedroom.

~*~

In the morning, Brahms found he had the cottage to himself. He cleaned his teeth thoroughly, wondering where Penny was. Probably off taking a walk; she was enamored of the outdoors for some reason. He'd slept in his clothes last night and he quickly peeled them off before shuffling off to the bathroom for a shower.  


Once he was under the water, he looked down at his morning erection. He could do with a bit of a wank; he hadn't had one in a few days. Gripping his cock, he started stroking slowly and reached up with his free hand to flick his thumb over his nipple. He bit his lip against the moan he wanted to let out; he didn't have to be quiet for his parents or anything but he wasn't sure when Penny was due back. She wouldn't tease him about this, he knew that, but he still didn't want her to hear him. She'd probably avoid looking at him once he came downstairs, purposefully talk about all they had to do today in order to pretend that nothing had happened.  


Stop. Stop thinking about Penny.  


Deliberately, he forced his thoughts to drift to Greta. Greta with her wide doe's eyes, her kind smile, her long legs... He pictured those long legs parting for him as she laid back on her bed. Her hair spread on the pillow, a smile on her face. _Come on, I know you want to_ , she says and opens her arms to him. She's in a white silk nightie, riding up high on her thigh. He can see the shape of her nipples under the fabric.  


“Unh!” He came suddenly and gave a little shiver. He really needed that if it had only taken about a minute. He'd hardly gotten into his fantasy, but it had still been satisfying. Next time, he'd try to get himself into the mix before blowing his load. Fantasies had always been his favorite part of masturbating, though the final result was usually pretty great.  


He shut off the water and stepped out, toweling himself off and then wrapping the towel around his waist. As he walked down the hallway he heard Penny downstairs shout, “Hey!”  


“Yes?” he called back, wondering how long she'd been there and if she'd heard him after all. His heart pounded.  


“I was just at the house! Greta's up if you want to have breakfast over there. She kept looking out the windows so I think she's expecting you!”  


Relief made him drop his shoulders. “Okay. I'll be down in a few minutes.”  


“You know where to find me!”  


He smirked and continued down the hall. “Reading in the lounge?”  


Her laughter drifted up the stairs and he was smiling dopily as he got dressed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got things set up so now the updates should be coming more quickly! I'm just now finally getting to write the scenes that have been living in my head for weeks now and it's been fun. Hope you enjoy!

Greta absently plunked on the keys of the harpsichord and stared off into space. Coming here after everything with Cole had seemed like a good idea. She could heal from the emotional trauma of her miscarriage and remove herself from his obsessive calls and constantly driving by her apartment. On the plane to the UK she'd imagined an adorable little boy she could bond with, a little hand to hold, someone who'd ask her for just one more bedtime story. The reality of Brahms was much more than disappointing; it might actually be making her depression worse.  


And more to the fact: she was a little appalled that apparently she had absolutely no hobbies at all, nothing to really fill her time. She was grateful for Aaron's company and enjoyed their conversations but there was almost always this weird beat before he'd speak, like he was waiting for his cue. Besides that odd habit he, unlike her, actually had real work to do. So while he walked the grounds, repairing things and doing yard work, Greta sat on her ass inside, dwelling on everything in her life that sucked and feeling worse and worse by the day.  


Sighing, Greta covered the keyboard and stood. She walked into the library, absently rubbing her hands up and down her arms. Even in sweaters, the house was still a little chilly. She wondered if Aaron was warm in his cottage. Maybe she'd go over there and see if she could hang out for awhile? Anything to get out of this house.  


Greta scanned the titles on the shelves but nothing really caught her eye. So many leather bound books, all of them old and full of stories with pages and pages of description that were so dull she wanted to scream. But then something caught her eye and she paused. There was a little space between the Brontes, something far back in the shelf. Greta reached in a hand when suddenly the phone rang.  


“Jesus!” She jumped and drew her hand back. She hurried into the kitchen and picked up the extension there. “Hello?”  


“Greta, it's Malcolm. How are you?”  


“Fine. About to drop dead of boredom. You?”  


He chuckled. “Sorry to hear it but not terribly surprised all the same. I was wondering if you'd want to give the pub another try tonight? I can pick you up, same time. Try not to wander into the attic again.”  


It shouldn't have, but the comment needled her. So she said, “Sure, why not? We should invite Aaron. He's new to the area too, you know?”  


There was a pause and Greta felt a little bad for the suggestion. She knew Malcolm wanted to be alone with her. “I guess if he wants to come along, he can. Have you two been bonding much in your very strange surroundings?”  


“He comes to the house to eat from time to time. Mostly he keeps to himself. I'm not sure if a crowded pub is going to be his thing, honestly.” Greta bit her lip, hoping her back pedaling would smooth over any hurt feelings.  


“Maybe not,” Malcolm agreed and his voice sounded normal again. “Still, go ahead and ask him. I'd feel like a prick if I took you into town and left him twiddling his thumbs.”  


“Okay,” Greta agreed and smiled. “I'll see you then.”  


“I'll see you. Bye, Greta.”  


“Bye.”  


Greta hung up the phone and glanced at the clock. 1:35. She released a long sigh and wondered what she could do to kill time until Malcolm arrived.

~*~

“Nope, I'm not going.”  


“Penny, come on,” Brahms said, knowing he was whining and not caring. “You're supposed to help me, remember?”  


She was curled up on the sofa in those god damned leggings again but she'd chosen a sweatshirt with WWU printed on the front of it rather than the crop top. In her lap was another of her god damned books. And god damn it, she wasn't even lifting her eyes from the page when she spoke to him!  


“And I've helped you. You now have conversational skills, young grasshopper. Go and talk to the girl without your ghost chaperone.” Penny finally looked up at him. “It's been a week, dude. Honestly, you're fine. You just need a little confidence.”  


He sagged over the back of the sofa, head falling on his arms. “So come be my confidence then!”  


Penny started laughing and dropped her head next to his. “Look, you're being funny. You got this. Go on. Look, I'll give you ten minutes and then I'll come check on you. Hm? And if it looks like you're struggling, I'll stay. If not, I'll pop back out again. Okay?”  


Brahms gave her a _who are you kidding_ look. “You're going to get so wrapped up in your book, you won't know that ten minutes have passed.”  


Shit, he had a point. “Uh, look, I'll set the egg timer....”  


He suddenly stood up, throwing his arms in the air. “Forget it! Just forget it. I'll stay here!” He stormed into the kitchen and started slamming cupboards open and closed.  


Penny gaped after him. “You barely have any food left!” When he didn't respond, Penny rolled her eyes and got up off the couch. “Fine, you fucking baby. I'll go up to the house with you. Just stop--” She paused when she came in the door and saw him at the stove, shaking grated parmesan cheese between two pieces of bread and then dropping them into a pan for a half-assed grilled cheese sandwich. “Oh my god, Brahms, just make fucking toast, dude. Why are you being such a martyr?”  


He didn't answer.  


“Damn it, Brahms! I just said that I'd go to the house with you! Come on, then!” She stomped over to him and grabbed his arm but he just shook out of her grasp and kept staring down into his pan, stone faced. “Brahms? Come on.”  


Without even acknowledging her, he picked up his spatula and turned the bread over.  


Penny stared up at him for a long time. “Oh my god. You're mad that I didn't jump when you told me to. That's why you don't want to go to the house now. Because I'm not your fucking servant here at your beck and call.” She felt like she wanted to cry but she of course she couldn't. Her throat ached before she was finally able to choke out, “You're a bad friend.”  


That did it. He spun to face her, completely aghast. “ _I'm_ a bad friend?!”  


“Yes, you are.” Penny still struggled to speak, her mouth wanting to contort downward in an ugly-cry grimace. She pressed the back of her hand to her nose. “You're petty and mean. I hang out with you all day and help you with everything and when I don't do one thing, you act like I'm public enemy number one. That's bullshit. And it's not even like I'm refusing to help you because I'm lazy. I feel like a broken record but, what's the game plan here, Brahms? Am I supposed to date Greta for you forever? Dictate how you fuck her if you even get that far? At some point, you're going to have to take over and be a grown up. I can't do everything for you. Despite what your parents taught you, that isn't helping. It's a hindrance.” She took a step back and said quietly, “I don't want to talk to you anymore tonight.”  


With that, she left the room. She picked up her book from the coffee table and went upstairs, presumably to one of the spare rooms. Brahms watched her, jaw dropped in disbelief.  


_He_ was the bad friend? Like hell he was! She was refusing to help him! Here he was, desperately needing her guidance, and here she was deserting him! And standing there trying to cry about it, too!  


He looked down into the pan and swore; he'd scorched one side of his sandwich while Penny had lectured him. Growling, he picked up the bread to scrape the burnt bits off with a knife but then quickly dropped the hot bread. He hissed and went to the sink, running cold water over his hand. He suddenly remembered another time when he'd done something like this, accidentally singeing his hand when he'd pulled something out of the oven; his glove had apparently a hole in it. Penny had been reading in the lounge but came flying in at his shout and had directed his hand under the faucet, clucking sympathy and promising to sew up the hole in the glove so it wouldn't happen again. Penny who dove head first into a book and rarely came up again no matter what was going on around her.  


The next time he made dinner, he found the glove had been neatly repaired with bright red thread.  


His shoulders sagged. Penny was right. He was a bad friend.  


He sat down at the table and ate his pathetic sandwich, thinking.

~*~

Greta met Malcolm at the door, wearing her coral dress and a smile. His face lit up at the sight of her and her smile widened.  


“Your chariot awaits, my lady,” he said, holding out his arm. Any other guy and she'd have given him negative eight thousand points for that line but with his accent, he managed to pull it off. But just barely. “Is Aaron coming with us tonight?”  


“Oh, I stopped by his place earlier to ask him but he was out. Then it got dark and... well. I guess I could have called but I realized I didn't have the number.” Greta accepted Malcolm's arm and walked down the steps carefully in her high heels.  


“No problem,” Malcolm said. “We can pop 'round and ask him right now.”

~*~

Penny glared down at her book, rubbing at her nose and hating the throbbing ache of unshed tears in her throat. Fuck Brahms. Stupid asshole. She couldn't even enjoy her story now, she was so upset. She hoped the next time Brahms went to the house, he'd find a note from Greta saying she'd run away with Malcolm. It would serve him right.  


Downstairs came loud string music. She frowned and sat up a little but then a familiar rock groove started and she set her book aside. Oh my god. The complete dork.  


_Wheeeere did you go_  
_I was searchin (searchin) for a one way street_  
_I was hopin (hopin) for a chance to meet_  
_I was waitin for the operator on the line_  
_(She's gone so long)_  
_What can I do?_  
_(Where could she be?)_  
_Don't know what I'm gonna do, I gotta get back to you_  


Penny got up and went downstairs, finding Brahms standing in the lounge with the record player on the coffee table. They'd pulled it out a few times and listened to some records but it hadn't been something Brahms seemed to care about. Until now. His face brightened when he saw her and she had to laugh as he began to bounce in a silly attempt at dancing. It looked like something a little boy would do.  


_You got to slow down sweet talkin' woman_  
_You got me runnin, you got me searchin'_  
_Hold on sweet talking lover_  
_It's so sad if that's the way it's over_  


Taking pity on him, Penny hopped over and started dancing along like she had when she was a kid, just throwing everything into her movements, not caring if she looked cool or not, just having fun. She laughed up at Brahms and he laughed too and started trying to copy what she was doing. Even though her moves were unsexy and childish, they were still a bit cooler than the truly embarrassing flailing he'd been doing a moment ago.  


_I was (walkin') many days go by_  
_I was thinking (thinking) 'bout the lonely nights_  
_Communications break down all around_  
_(She's gone so long)_  
_What can I do_  
_(Where can she be now?)_  
_No, no, no, don't know what I'm gonna do_  
_I gotta get back to you_  


Brahms watched Penny dance; it was like their fight had never happened, her eyes sparkling like fireworks. In fact, all of her seemed to shine, every bit of her from her long golden hair swirling around her as she spun, down to her bare feet that hardly seemed to touch the floor. It made everything inside of him suddenly tip over and go rolling everywhere, topsy turvy, up meant down, black was white, here was there, and it scared him.  


What the hell was happening?

~*~

Malcolm and Greta got out of the car and exchanged a bemused look.  


“Is that Electric Light Orchestra?” Malcolm asked.  


“Sounds like it,” Greta replied.  


They walked up to the cottage and paused, suddenly unsure. After one more look at one another, Malcolm trotted up the steps to the door and knocked. He waited but there was no reply.  


Malcolm called back over his shoulder, “I don't think he can hear me.”  


“Maybe we should just go?” Greta suggested.  


But Malcolm was curious so he opened the door, ignoring Greta hissing his name. He poked his head in and saw that the cottage opened onto a short hallway with a full length mirror hanging on the left wall. This mirror looked onto the lounge and in it he watched as Aaron swung his arms up in the air, bouncing on one foot as he laughed. Then a girl spun into view and Malcolm's eyebrows raised. She was a few inches shorter than Greta but with long, blonde hair that made an impressive golden arc around her head as she danced. He didn't blame Aaron for the besotted look on his face. Good on him.  


Malcolm backed up and shut the door, smirking.  


“Why did you do that? That was an invasion of his privacy!” Greta hissed, glaring at him.  


“It was,” Malcolm agreed, strolling back to her.  


“Well?” Despite it being an invasion of Aaron's privacy, Greta still asked, “What was he doing?”  


“I don't think Aaron wants to go out with us tonight.” Malcolm opened the car door for her and gestured her inside.  


Greta reluctantly took a step in. “Why not?”  


“He's got a date in there.”  


“You're kidding.”  


“Nope. Sexy blonde girl. Looks like we're on our own.”  


Greta frowned as they drove away.

~*~

“I'm sorry,” Brahms said.  


Penny nodded, her smile fading. “Okay.”  


“I'm... going to try to be a better friend to you. You're right, you do a lot for me.”  


She looked off to the side, one hand awkwardly hugging the elbow of her opposite arm. “Well, I mean, like you said before, it's not like I do it out of altruism.”  


“I doubt that 'they' expect you to look after me when I've been sick or treat my burns. You've gone above and beyond, I'd say.”  


“Could I get that in writing?” she said wryly.  


Brahms turned away and went to the escritoire in the corner. He pulled open a drawer, found a yellowed sheet of paper and a fountain pen that worked after he shook it a few times. Then he scribbled something and then presented it to her proudly.  


Penny read it out loud, already starting to smile, “I, Brahms Heelshire, being of somewhat sound mind, declare that Penelope Regan Beech has gone above and beyond the requirements of helping Master Heelshire and therefore has earned her wings.”  


He stuck his hands in his pockets, raising his eyebrows with boyish expectancy. “Well?”  


Giggling, Penny hugged the paper to her heart. “I'll treasure it forever.”  


“Frame it even.”  


They both started laughing together and then turned to the box of records for their next dance tune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song "Sweet Talking Woman" by ELO
> 
> I also stole the grated parm grilled sandwich from a short film James Russell was in called "Freelance." Penny's reaction was basically mine when his character Lance made his self pity sandwich when HE COULD HAVE HAD TOAST. THERE WAS A TOASTER ON THE COUNTER. COME ON, LANCE.
> 
> I also stole from myself by having Brahms apologize to someone through music. He's bad with talking, remember, so why muddle through finding the right thing to say when someone else could do it so much better, right? Luckily this time around, it goes better for him.


	11. Chapter 11

A bit of a routine developed over the next few days. Brahms would go eat meals with Greta and have his own conversations with her, undirected by Penny. Those were mostly fine but didn't seem to flow as well as when Penny had been the one actually speaking. Then he and Penny would perform repairs around the house, their cottage, and the grounds itself. He was picking up a lot of her skills, so much so that she didn't have to follow him around quite as much and could do her own thing. He had never really thought that maybe there were other things Penny would have liked to be doing and he felt ashamed that the subject had never come up.  


One day, after unclogging Greta's bathroom drain (she'd stood in the doorway looking apologetic and trying to make small talk but that had only made the job take longer; it would have been nothing at all had Penny been there), Brahms stopped by the cottage for a little rest. After the gross stuff he'd pulled out of the bathroom drain, he was in no hurry to eat and chose to skip lunch.  


Walking in, he found Penny at the kitchen table with some of the old paper and the fountain pen from the escritoire. She was scribbling and frowning but looked up when he walked in.  


“Hey. What time is it?” She squinted at the clock on the wall. “What are you--”  


Brahms sat down across from her and leaned forward. “What are you drawing?”  


“Nothing. I was just screwing around. It's...” She tried to cover it and Brahms grabbed for her hand but only passed through her. She really didn't want him looking at her work, apparently. He pulled back out of her space. She watched this happen with a thoughtful look on her face and then slowly moved her hands from the paper.  


“May I?” Brahms reached out hesitantly. At her tense nod, Brahms turned the drawing around so he could see it. It was of a little girl picking fruit from a tree while a moon up in the sky frowned down disapprovingly and the tree looked like it was in pain. “Oh, Pen. This is so...”  


“I'm really rusty,” Penny said defensively. “I haven't drawn in months. And that pen really sucks. It crapped out on me a million times when I was drawing the tree.”  


“If this is you rusty then I'd love to see what else you could do,” Brahms said.  


Penny shrugged. “Go to a library, I guess. I'm a children's book illustrator, look me up. And while you're at it, check out my Instagram. Penelope R. Beech. I don't know where my sketchbook is anymore, otherwise I'd show it to you.”  


“I think Chris took it with him,” Brahms said, handing the paper back. But Penny didn't take it and just stared at him with wide eyes. “What?”  


“When was Chris here?” Penny asked, voice hushed.  


Brahms frowned. “Two days after you died. He was still your emergency contact. The police called him to tell him what happened and he came to the house and collected your things. I thought you knew...?”  


“No, I didn't know!” Penny said, suddenly very loud and very angry. “What else have you been keeping from me?!”  


“Keeping from...? I wasn't keeping this from you! I thought you knew! Not long after he left, you turned up so I just assumed you'd seen him! I had no idea or I--”  


Penny stared at him, seething. “Or you'd what?”  


“I wouldn't have mentioned it in such a cavalier way.” Brahms looked down. “I thought it was weird that he left your books behind. But he said that he'd eventually send for them. There were just so many and the problem of trying to get a trunk load of books back to the States...”  


“Tell me about it.” Penny was starting to relax but he could tell she was still upset.  


“Do you want to spend some time alone?” Brahms asked.  


Penny nodded. “If you don't mind.”  


“I don't,” he said quietly and stood. “I'm sorry, Penny.”  


“I know.” She was staring down at her drawing when Brahms let himself out.  


Not knowing where else to go, he started toward the house and saw Malcolm's car out front. He hesitated but then continued heading in that direction. The front door suddenly opened and Malcolm himself stepped out. When he saw Brahms he held up a hand. “Aaron! I was just about to go looking for you! Greta said you're usually here for lunch so I thought I'd catch you.”  


“Here I am,” Brahms said, thinking it was something Penny would say.  


Malcolm gave him a quick smile. “Right.” He reached into his coat pocket and held out an envelope. “Your pay. I think you've been waiting on this for awhile, yes?”  


“Yeah, thanks.” Brahms took the envelope and stuffed it into his own pocket.  


“Do you want a lift into town? I was about to take Greta. I think there were some things you needed to pick up, yeah?”  


Brahms patted in his other pocket for the little spiral notebook Penny had started having him carry around. It notated the work that still needed to be done, but more importantly, it listed what car parts they'd need to order to get their old car running.  


“Yes, actually, thanks,” Brahms mumbled.  


“We were about to go right now if that's okay?” Malcolm asked.  


Leaving the grounds entirely sent a wave of nausea through his guts and Brahms almost said no. He started nodding, though and was rewarded with another friendly Malcolm smile. Briefly, Brahms considered going back to the cottage and begging Penny to come along but remembered she was upset and wanted to be alone. Besides, Malcolm could kind of hear her and it would be awkward.  


Greta opened the door suddenly and locked the door before coming down the steps toward them in a sensible, adult fashion. Brahms couldn't help but picture Penny dashing down them and then skipping the last step entirely in a hop.  


“Ready to go?” Greta asked, giving Brahms a bright smile.  


“Of course,” Brahms replied and was suddenly grateful that he hadn't had lunch, otherwise he would have vomited all over her shoes.

~*~

In town, Greta and Malcolm set off on their own and suggested that they meet Brahms in front of the post office in an hour and a half. Brahms couldn't help but think this was kind of rude; he was new to the area and should have at least been shown around first. Greta seemed to think the same thing and was frowning in disapproval at Malcolm as he led her away, yakking on about something or other.  


Brahms wandered, feeling like a bit of a prat, until he found the library. He went in and a nice old woman at the counter who didn't flinch at his face like so many people were doing kindly drew him a little map of the town, showing him the shops where he needed to go. Talking to her made him feel better and he was able to go to the shops and pick up more food and then go to the garage where the burly man behind the counter, like the old woman, didn't seem to care about Brahms's burns and gladly took the order for the car parts after Brahms put down a deposit.  


Consulting the town clock, he saw that he still had plenty of time to spare so he went to a little restaurant the librarian had suggested and ordered a ploughman's lunch that was so good, he could almost ignore the fascinated stares he was getting.  


“New to the area, mate?” the waiter asked.  


Brahms nodded and swallowed his mouthful of bread and cheese. “Yes. The Heelshires hired me on as a groundskeeper. The place was a bit of a mess.”  


The waiter snorted. “You don't know the half of it. Well, good luck to you. What do they call you?”  


“Aaron Woodhouse.” Brahms put out his hand and the waiter shook it with a bit of a smile.  


“Aaron. Good luck to you, Aaron. The sooner you leave that house the better.” The waiter nodded and moved on to the next table.  


Not liking that much, Brahms put down some money to settle his bill and moved on.  


There wasn't really anything else he was interested in so he went back to the library and asked the nice librarian if he could use a computer. She showed him everything he needed to do and soon he was on Penny's Instagram looking at all of her artwork. She seemed to mostly draw little girls in fantastical settings and animals behaving like people. His favorite of hers was of a crow at a little table pouring a cup of tea for a raven. It was captioned “Oh, do tell me: why is a raven like a writing desk?” He didn't understand the reference but the two birds looked so at home with one another that it charmed him. Then he looked at Penny's profile page and it listed her bibliography. His eyebrows raised. She'd illustrated six books and had written only one of them. _Amelie's Memory Garden_. Well, that's the one he needed to read. It was all Penny's. Why hadn't she mentioned it?  


Brahms logged off the computer and went back to the nice librarian. “Er, could you tell me, do you have Amelie's Memory Garden? It's by Penelope R. Beech. I want to get it for my niece, Greta.”  


The librarian frowned. “Hmmm. That's a very popular one. Hard to keep on the shelves, you see.” She tapped at her computer and scanned the screen before sighing. “I'm afraid not. If you sign up for a library card today, I can put you on a waiting list. All I need to see is your ID and a piece of mail directed to you.”  


“Ah. I'll have to come back with those things another day.” Brahms smiled at the woman. “Thank you for your help.”  


“You're very welcome,” she said back, smiling and showing dimples in her cheeks.  


Brahms checked the time and saw that he needed to go meet Greta and Malcolm soon. There was time for only one more trip; he could either go to the craft store or the bookstore but not both. It didn't take him long to make his decision.

~*~

When Brahms came in the door with his bags of shopping, Penny hopped up out of her comfy chair, dropping her book. “Whoa! Where did you--?”  


“Malcolm gave me my pay and took me into town. I didn't want to bother you.” He quickly took his bags into the kitchen and Penny followed him, her eyes wide as saucers.  


“You went into town? How did that go?”  


Brahms shrugged a shoulder. “Oh, they ditched me to be on their own.”  


“Fuckin' rude,” Penny said, looking offended on his behalf.  


“It's fine. I ordered our car parts and the man said they should be here by next week. Then I can take you into town myself. It's pretty nice, I think you'd like it.” He set about putting his food away and then turned back to Penny, holding out the last bag to her. “I ah, I got you something.”  


Penny blinked. “For me?” She took the bag and opened it, reaching inside. She pulled out a big sketchbook and stared at it for a moment.  


“So you can draw,” Brahms explained nervously. “There's some pencils as well and some watercolors. I had the shop girl pick the best ones for serious artists since I had no idea what you needed. Are... are they all right?”  


Penny nodded and then looked up at him. A wide warm smile crossed her face and she said softly, “They're great. Thank you, Brahms.”  


“You're welcome.” He took a step toward her and then realized he had no idea what he was going to do. Instead he cleared his throat and said, “I'm going to get dinner started. Malcolm's still up at the house.”  


“Huh.” Penny tilted her head. “They seem to be progressing nicely.”  


“Yeah, but he tries too hard,” he said, making Penny laugh.  


While he cooked, Penny sat at the table and lost herself in worlds of her own making, pencil scratching over paper. Brahms kept an eye on her and almost asked about Amelie's Memory Garden but didn't want to break her concentration. Though so intense and focused on her work, she seemed... happy. More than just the exuberance she'd shown at other times like during their dance or when she'd tease him. It was like she was at peace with herself and with everything that had happened to her, every terrible thing he'd ever said or done to her.  


He wouldn't have interrupted her for anything.

~*~

When Penny finally lifted her head, she wondered what time it was and looked at the clock. She did a double take. 2:34 in the morning?! When she'd started drawing, the sun had still been out! All those months of misery and being blocked and then dead had washed away in hours of manic creativity. Usually she'd have had to stop due to her hands cramping but with no actual physical form to ache or feel fatigue, she'd just kept going. Brahms hadn't even stopped her to say goodnight.  


She pushed back her chair and stood up. Maybe she'd at least look in on him. She felt bad for ignoring him for hours. She hadn't even asked much about his outing which had been a huge deal for him. For someone who had only had the company of his parents for years, going out into the big wide world and interacting with people must have been overwhelming for him. Poor Brahms. Penny went upstairs and from the hallway heard desperate moaning and whimpering coming from his room.  


With any other guy, she would have assumed the sounds were masturbatory in nature and retreated back downstairs. But she knew what he sounded like when he jacked off and it wasn't like this. This sounded like distress. Penny went through his door and found Brahms in bed, tangled in his bed sheets and thrashing. She hastily switched on his lamp and saw he was asleep and drenched in sweat. The stress of his day must have brought on a night terror.  


“Brahms? Sweetie, it's okay.” She reached out a hand to shake his shoulder but her hand went through. She frowned. That hadn't happened before. Usually when she wanted to touch Brahms or wanted him to touch her, she was able to make the connection. It had never not worked before. “Brahms?” she said again, hoping he'd wake up.  


Instead he let out a low keening sound like a scared animal. Her heart broke and she reached out again, this time to push his matted curls off of his sweaty forehead. Like last time, her hand went through him but unlike last time, the room went dark and she went tumbling through space, screeching.  


_Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck_  


She landed on her feet in a forest. In the distance she could hear childish laughter and shouting. She turned her head, trying to figure out where she was. A forest. A forest where? How had she ended up here?  


As she puzzled it out, there was a crashing through the brush and a little girl with shoulder length strawberry blonde hair came running,gulping and crying while looking frantically back over her shoulder.  


“Wha-” Penny started to say but something else came crashing through the brush, too.  


A little boy clutching a good-sized rock, his face contorted with rage. A little boy she'd seen many times in a painting. As he passed Penny, she found her voice finally.  
“BRAHMS!!!”

~*~

She was getting away. How dare she run away from him. How dare she leave him. She was his. She couldn't just leave. He'd make sure she could never, ever leave. It was easy to follow her, she wasn't doing a good job of dodging him, making so much sound with her crying and stepping on every tree branch in her path. And she was running farther and farther from the party and safety.  


“BRAHMS!!!”  


He skidded to a halt and turned, frowning. This never happened. In his furious trek through the forest, no one ever stopped him. Night after night he stalked Emily and murdered her, just like the first time. But someone had taken hold of the script and re-written it without telling him.  


A little girl stood nearby. She was small with her soft blonde hair cut in a bob. Her dress was a pretty pink floral pattern, her tights white, and with little white shoes tied with pink ribbons. As he watched, the little girl planted her hands on her hips and stared at him in a completely taken aback fashion that felt all too familiar.  


“What the fuck?” she finally said, the dirty word sounding almost funny coming from her cherub's face.  


“Penny?” he said in disbelief.  


“What is this?” she demanded and marched over to him. “Where are we? And god damn it, drop that rock! Right now!”  


He did it without a second thought. “How did you get here?”  


“Where is 'here'?” her voice rose with each word, making him wince.  


“Stop yelling,” Brahms said.  


“I'll stop yelling once you start answering some questions!” Penny stomped her foot. “Now tell me where we are!”  


“We're in the forest near the house. You've only ever been on the edge of it. I've never wanted to take you deeper because...” He trailed off and looked over Penny's shoulder. Emily lingered nearby, hugging a tree while continuing to cry silently.  


A look passed over Penny's face of understanding and horror. “Oh. Oh, no. This is the day, isn't it? Your birthday when you killed that little girl. Emily.”  


“Yeah.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I dream about it sometimes.”  


“I'm in your dream?” Penny looked around. “This feels so real. Not as real as when I was alive but way more real than my time as a ghost. Like I can actually feel the wind here.” She looked enchanted by this discovery but then visibly tried to focus on the topic at hand. “Anyway. Don't kill Emily.”  


Brahms scowled. “I dropped the rock, didn't I?”  


“Well, don't pick it up again,” she said tartly. “This is your birthday, right? Let's go back to the house and have cake. I bet you've got an awesome cake. You're rich; there's no excuse for your mom to buy a grocery store sheet cake.”  


“It's chocolate,” Brahms said. “With fudge icing.”  


“Oooooh, excellent choice.” Penny turned to walk away and then suddenly turning back called, “Hey, Emily, come on. Brahms isn't killing you tonight.”  


Emily hesitated and then rushed over to cling to Penny's hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.  


“You're welcome. If you want to pay me back, come save me if he ever dreams about _my_ murder.” Penny and Emily started walking but then Penny stopped and narrowed her eyes at Brahms. “Walk in front of us.”  


“I wasn't going to do anything,” he said defensively.  


“Mmm hmm. Walk in front of us, Brahms.”  


“ _Fine_.”  


The two girls chatted together behind him and he hunched his shoulders, feeling left out. They talked about books they liked, games they enjoyed playing, boys they thought were cute. He felt a little downhearted that he hadn't made that list. He wasn't burned yet and he'd been a pretty cute kid. If you disregarded his terrible temper.  


When they reached the grounds once more, Brahms could hear his mother calling him. “Brahms! It's time for your cake!”  


The three children ran together, hurt feelings and attempted murder put aside for the moment because _cake_! They joined the throng of children around his mother, who laughed indulgently and ordered everyone to the long, cloth covered table that had been placed on the lawn. Brahms sat down next to a sweaty, freckled red-headed boy from his class. He couldn't remember this kid's name and didn't much care. Penny sat next to Brahms and Emily took the seat next to Penny. They watched as his father carefully carried out the enormous cake with the assistance of another one of the dads and the children cheered. Then they all sang happy birthday and Brahms blew out the candles in one breath which made the red-headed kid pat him chummily on the back. Everyone was giddy since no one had been able to live out this part of the dream party. Then his mother cut generous sized cake slices for everyone.  


Brahms got the first piece and dug right in. He could barely taste the cake and felt a little disappointed. However, sad dream cake was much better than having to murder his best friend on a continuous loop. He looked over at Penny as she took her first bite.  


“How is it?” he asked her.  


Penny swallowed. “It's like if La Croix made a chocolate cake. I can kind of taste it but not really. Still. I haven't had cake in ages.” She took another bite and said, “We need some entertainment while we eat. Your mom didn't hire a clown, did she?”  


“No.” Brahms shook his head. “She hired a magician.”  


“Aw, nice! Was he any good?”  


“I don't know, I never got to see the show.”  


Emily looked at him sharply. “Neither did I.”  


“Hoo boy, is this awkward.” Penny looked between the two of them. “Brahms, do you think we can leave?”  


“I don't know, I've never tried.” He frowned. “At least, I don't know how so I've never tried.”  


Penny set her fork down. “Well, I think we should go. This place is bad for you.”  


“Bad for him?! What about me!” Emily exclaimed.  


“Right. It's really bad for you, too, that's true,” Penny said reaching out a hand to touch Emily's shoulder comfortingly. “I'm not saying it isn't. But you're just a dream fragment. Brahms is a real person and he's reliving this day when he sleeps. That can't be good for his mental state.”  


“You don't know anything,” Emily said disdainfully. “I can't believe they gave _you_ powers. What a waste.” She stood up with her plate and stalked away to take a seat further down the table.  


Brahms raised his eyebrows and took another bite of cake, watching as Penny's face turned pink. “Look who's not such an expert after all.”  


“I never claimed to know everything,” Penny protested.  


“No, of course not,” Brahms said, sounding innocent.  


“Fine,” Penny said hotly, “Well, here's something I don't know: why did you kill Emily?”  


Brahms sank a little in his chair. “Do we have to talk about that?”  


“I just stopped you from committing murder. I need to know what pushed you to that point before I decide if I want to keep being friends with you.” She stubbornly set her jaw and folded her arms.  


_We're friends_. Warmed by this revelation, Brahms finally spoke. “Her family was moving away.”  


Penny waited and then prompted him, “And?”  


“That's it. She was moving away.”  


For a moment she just stared at him and then, “Are you kidding me? That's it? Her family was moving away? She's eight, dude, she didn't really get a say in the decision! When you're a kid you just have to go along with your parents' every whim.”  


“Well, it upset me,” Brahms said, feeling foolish. He hadn't thought that much through when he'd been eight. All he'd felt was distress that his only friend was going away, that he'd be by himself now. He'd go through his school day being tormented by the other boys and then there'd be no Emily to comfort him later.  


“Upset you. Ugh. You want to know upsetting?” Penny's eyes narrowed. “I'll show you upsetting. I just got to see the worst day of your life so how about you take a look at mine?”  


“What are you talking--” As he spoke, the party around them faded and when he blinked he found himself somewhere else entirely.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally had a few spare moments to put the finishing touches on this chapter! Happy fourth to everybody in the states and to the rest of you, I hope your Thursday doesn't suck!

“About?” He was standing in a sun-dappled bedroom that would have been tidy had the bed been made and there weren't books stacked here and there on the floor. Brahms looked around for Penny and saw her seated at a little vanity. She was dressed in only a slip, applying lipstick in the mirror as she hummed softly to herself. Her hair looked different and he realized she'd given herself loose curls. She hadn't seemed to notice him and maybe if this memory had been anything like his own, she wouldn't realize he was there until he drew attention to himself. Something had to be coming, since no one's worst memory could possibly be calmly applying makeup at home, could it?  


Shifting awkwardly, Brahms tore his gaze away from Penny's back (she had a light brown birthmark at the base of her neck in the shape of a sunburst) and around the room. The window was open, letting in the sounds of a lawnmower and a weird, tinkly music that sounded a little eerie. He noticed that on the back of the door hung a sky blue dress with a darker blue ribbon around the middle. It looked sweet, exactly like something Penny would wear. He smiled, looking at it, when suddenly the sound of a door opening and closing downstairs drew his attention.  


Penny let out a soft exclamation and capped her lipstick, then took a moment to fluff her pretty curly hair and smiled into the mirror. She looked so lovely but it hurt looking at her, knowing something terrible was about to happen.  


A man came in the door and Brahms recognized him from his brief appearance at the Heelshire house. Chris. Couldn't remember the surname. There he stood, looking all fit and like he'd never had an ounce of body fat in his life, his brown hair slightly too long but brushed almost carelessly back from his face. His beard looked as if Penny trimmed it regularly for him. He wore a red flannel shirt open over a white t-shirt, his jeans faded from many washes, his work boots neatly tied.  


And his eyes were rimmed red as he stood there, sniveling.  


Penny gasped and jumped up, running to him. “Oh my god, baby, what's the matter?”  


Chris looked down as she took his hands in hers and swallowed hard. “Pen...”  


“What happened? Is it Meg? Not the baby, right? Tell me.” She searched Chris's eyes but he studiously avoided her direct gaze.  


“Pen, I've gotta call it off.”  


She looked genuinely confused. “What?”  


He slid his hands from hers and said, “The wedding. Everything. I gotta... Pen, I'm sorry. We can't get married. I can't marry you.”  


Penny continued to look confused and then slowly the confusion drained away, along with all the color in her face. In fact, she looked ill and Brahms started to take a step toward her before something told him to stay put. His hands curled into fists.  


“What are you talking about?” Penny asked, her voice trembling. “You asked me. We got... we got this house together. We've already paid for the venue. What do you mean you can't...?”  


“Penny, you asked me, way back when we were first dating if I ever wanted to have kids. And I said that I didn't know.” Chris's jaw clenched for a moment. “Later, you asked me again because you wanted to get serious with me, but only if we'd have kids later. It was a deal breaker and... and I didn't want to lose you so I lied. I don't want kids. At all. I can't marry you because I can't give you what you want. You want kids so much, Pen. You'd be an amazing mother. But I'd be a terrible father. So I've got to go.”  


Penny took a sudden shuddery gasp and said almost breathlessly, “Can't we talk about this?”  


“There's nothing to say.” Chris reached out and touched her cheek, his face starting to crumble. “Fuck, I don't want to lose you. You deserve so much more than I can give you, though.”  


Penny reached up and grasped his hand with both of hers and begged in an un-Penny like way, “Oh, please. Please don't do this. Don't leave me.”  


“Don't make this harder than it needs to be.” Chris suddenly hardened and roughly pulled his hand away. “I'm gonna grab a few things and stay the night at Rob's. I'll come back tomorrow for everything else.”  


“But we were going to your sister's,” Penny whispered. “The baby's party...”  


“Well, we're not going. It's okay, I'm not going to be there, either.” He went to the closet and pulled out a gym bag. Then he crossed to the dresser and started stuffing the bag with clothing. His movements were quick and jerky but he suddenly went still. “You'll find someone else, Pen. I know you will.”  


Tears welled up in Penny's eyes. Brahms had never seen that happen before and it crushed a part of his soul to see them spill down her cheeks. “I don't want anyone else. I want you.”  


“Well, I'm bad for you. Goodbye, Penny.” He strode to the door, this man who could just walk away from a beautiful woman in tears and Brahms couldn't stomach it.  


“You fucking asshole,” he snarled.  


Penny didn't seem to hear him but Chris stopped in his tracks. He turned back and looked right at Brahms. His eyes were so full of misery that Brahms could only stare at him in confusion.  


“Take care of her,” Chris said. “I know she's a tough cookie and pretty self reliant but she loves hard. She'll love you more than you'll ever deserve.” Then he was out the door.  


When the front door clicked shut, Penny started wavering where she stood and then stumbled to the bed where she sagged and started crying in earnest. Big, heart-breaking sobs that shook her whole body as she gasped for air, curling up like she was in excruciating pain.  


Brahms couldn't handle another second of this. “Penny...”  


Startled, she looked up, her streaming eyes causing her eye makeup to run. She gulped and pressed the back of a trembling hand to her cheek and said miserably, “He was all I had left. There's nobody else. I don't... I don't have a family. I'm alone.”  


She'd lost her parents as a child and her grandmother was gone as well. Brahms sank down on the bed next to her and tugged her into his arms hugging her tightly. “No, I'm here. You have me.”  


Dissolving once more into tears, Penny pressed her face into his shoulder and sobbed. Brahms rubbed his hand up and down her back and gently murmured in her ear. He didn't really know what he was saying and she didn't seem to take much note of it herself, other than it was meant to be comforting. Her arms looped around his neck and he nuzzled her hair. It felt thick and heavy and he wondered how she didn't get a headache carrying all that hair around.  


Gradually, her sobs tapered off but she still rested within his arms, cheek pressed to his shoulder. He held her and looked around the room. His attention was drawn to a painting on the wall. He instantly recognized Penny's style before noticing the PRB scrawled in the corner. A little red-haired girl in a flowing yellow dress like a ballet dancer would wear, pointed one little toe forward as she bowed gracefully to three flowers. The flowers had solemn faces as they stared at the little girl who looked sorrowful even though she had a sweet little crown of pink and yellow flowers in her hair. The group stood in a lush, green garden, ivy hanging behind them all and curling around the flowerbed.  


Penny finally lifted her head. “Sorry,” she croaked. “I got your shirt wet.”  


“I don't feel it,” he said truthfully. “Dream place magic, I guess.”  


She gave him a watery smile. “Yeah, I guess so. I'm not drowning in snot, either. That's usually what happens when I cry for real.”  


Brahms made a face. “Good thing we're in the dream place, then.”  


Giggling, she swatted his shoulder. “Doofus.”  


He smiled back at her and then asked, “Are you all right?”  


Penny took a deep breath. “I think so. It still really hurts.”  


“I know. That came out of nowhere.” Brahms scowled. “He never should have lied about children in the first place.”  


Looking tired, Penny said, “I know.” She started to shift out of his arms. “I should let you sleep, now. There's been enough trauma for one night.”  


Brahms took hold of her arm, mindfully keeping his grip light. “Wait. Why don't you show me around? You've seen my house. Let me see yours.”  


“I don't feel up to it, Brahms,” Penny said, her mouth drooping. “Get some sleep, okay? We've got another garden to weed tomorrow and I don't want you whining when we're three quarters done with it that you're too tired to finish.”  


“Speaking of gardens,” Brahms said awkwardly and then pointed to the painting. “I like that picture. Is it from Amelie's Memory Garden?”  


Penny frowned at him and then looked over her shoulder at the painting in question. “Yeah. It is. How did you know about...?”  


“I did what you said and looked you up at the library. They didn't have a copy of your book, though. Why didn't you tell me you wrote and illustrated one all on your own? You made it sound as if you only did the pictures for other people's books.”  


Penny held up both hands, her chin trembling. “Brahms, please. I'm way too emotionally wrung out to talk about anything else right now, okay? I need to leave and you need to sleep. Good night.”  


Worried by how upset she was, he followed her as she went to the door. “Penny, wait--”  


She shut the door in his face and he growled in annoyance. Grasping the knob, he jerked the door open and there was a loud snapping sound. Immediately, everything felt less real and more dream like. The door opened onto the hall of his own home. He turned and looked behind him but it was only his parents's bedroom and not Penny's bedroom in America.  


Back to normal dreaming then. No more hyper realistic Penny-influenced dreaming. As he started to sag at the thought, Greta suddenly strutted through an open doorway wearing nothing but a smile. She crooked her finger to him and said, “I know you want to.”  


Well. If he couldn't dream about what he wanted with who he wanted, this was a reasonable alternative. He followed Greta into her room, eyes on her firm ass, and dropped to the bed. Eagerly, she knelt in front of him and dove for the zip on his jeans, pulling it down.  


“I've been wanting to taste you,” she purred as his cock swung free. Brahms watched as Greta took him all in her mouth and bobbed up and down, moaning and maintaining eye contact with him. Compared to holding Penny in his arms, this felt like nothing. He knew none of it was real. Annoyed, he shut his eyes and when he opened them, Penny knelt there instead.  


“Pen--?” he asked, suddenly hoping she'd come back.  


But looking into her eyes, he knew that she hadn't. The dream girl kissed the tip of his cock and asked, “Can all of you fit inside of me?”  


Suddenly revolted by this figment of his limited imagination, he gripped her shoulders and pushed her back. This was what the script had been for most of his fantasies since he was thirteen and had had his first wet dream. Now he saw how shallow it was, how it paled in comparison to having genuine feelings for someone. “I don't want any of this!”  


As he spoke everything around him went dark and Brahms drifted into a dreamless sleep.

~*~

Greta turned the bacon over in the pan and glanced over her shoulder. No Aaron yet. Yesterday, she'd hoped he'd stay for dinner but he'd remained in his cottage. At the time, Greta had wanted to at least go over and invite him but Malcolm had waved her off.  


“He's going to think we don't want him around,” Greta had argued. “I mean, you ditched him in town today.”  


“I didn't ditch him!” Malcolm had looked shocked at the accusation. “He's already dating a local girl, isn't he? I'll bet he's already been at least a few places. Found his way around well enough, didn't he?”  


Greta had frowned. “It was still really mean. We could have at least met up for lunch.”  


Malcolm held up his hands. “All right, I'm mean. In future, I'll be sure to follow your very fine example.”  


“You'd better,” Greta had narrowed her eyes playfully. “I've outgrown dating bad boys.”  


“Are we?” Malcolm had asked with this sweet look of hope. “Dating?”  


For a moment Greta hadn't known how to respond. _No_ had leaped immediately to mind but it sounded too harsh. Instead she settled for an enigmatic, “We'll see.”  


Meanwhile in the present, the kitchen door opened and Aaron came in, looking shy and awkward. “Er, morning. I overslept.”  


“I'm not about to tell on you,” Greta said with a smile. “Have a seat, it's almost ready.”  


Aaron pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “I should cook breakfast sometime. It isn't right that you always do it.”  


“I wouldn't turn down a meal I didn't have to cook,” Greta said. She set their bacon on a paper towel to drain the excess grease and picked up another pan to scrape out their scrambled eggs onto plates. “Sleep okay?”  


He turned a little red and mumbled, “Sort of. Lots of weird dreams.”  


“Anything interesting?”  


“Ah. You know.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Just... dream stuff.”  


Greta gathered together the rest of the food and set his plate in front of him before sitting down with her own. “I've had some weird dreams in this house. About Brahms.”  


Aaron's eyes widened and then he seemed to relax. “Oh, the doll?”  


“Yes, the doll. Who did you think I meant?” She frowned at him and picked up the pitcher of orange juice to pour herself a glass.  


“The composer?” Aaron asked, shrugging a shoulder.  


Greta laughed in disbelief. “Yes, I'm always haunted by lullabies.” Her words reminded her of Cole and what she'd lost, the child she'd almost had, and immediately felt like shit. She drank her juice and hoped Aaron would change the subject.  


He did. “We're weeding the west gardens today. It might make a good kitchen garden if you like fresh vegetables.”  


“We?” Greta asked.  


Aaron looked thrown again and then said, “Er, the royal we.”  


She set her glass aside. “Aaron. Are you okay?”  


“I'm fine.” He shoveled eggs into his mouth as if to prove his claim.  


Her voice softened. “I'm sorry about yesterday. We shouldn't have just left you in town like that. I felt really bad.”  


He looked up at her. “Don't. It was fine. I got a lot done.”  


“If you're sure...”  


“I am.” He started eating his bacon. Greta noticed that he never seemed to go to bacon right away, like he preferred it to be a little cold. It was kind of weird. Everything about his was a little weird. And yet...  


“So, there was something I wanted to ask,” Greta said and then stopped herself. The girl Malcolm had seen him with... she couldn't actually say anything about her. If she did, she'd have to admit to them basically spying on Aaron.  


“What is it?” He looked at her curiously as he ate.  


“Ah.” She thought fast. “Why don't you come back to the house tonight for dinner? We could play pool after. There's a great table in the game room.”  


Aaron swallowed his mouthful of breakfast. “All right,” he said quietly.  


She smiled. “Great.”  


They finished up their meal and Aaron took the dishes to the sink to wash. Greta took them to dry. They worked in companionable silence until the last dish was shining on the rack.  


“Well,” Aaron said. “Thanks as always.”  


“Thank _you_ ,” Greta said sincerely. “I really do appreciate you coming over here. For awhile I thought I was going crazy in this house all by myself. But you... make me feel less alone. You know? Like I have someone who's in this with me. It's less daunting.”  


He looked thoughtful, nodding. “Yes. I understand.”  


For a moment, Greta stared up into his eyes. She did that a lot to draw her attention away from the ruin of his face. He really did have pretty eyes; she didn't think she'd known very many people with green eyes. She took a step toward him, tilting her face slightly upwards...  


Aaron suddenly cleared his throat. “I'll see you at dinner,” he said in an awkward rush and then hurried to the door.  


“Okay!” she called but he was gone. “Guess I won't be seeing you for lunch, then?”  


With Aaron gone and the dishes done, there wasn't much else for Greta to do. She drifted back to the library and looked over the shelves again. Maybe this time she'd find something she'd be interested in reading? Like last time, her attention was drawn to something between two books, toward the back of the shelf. She reached for it and pulled out a trade paperback that looked completely out of place among the old leather-bound books.  


It was The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters. Greta flipped open the book found three letters, PRB, written in the upper left corner. She puzzled over that a moment and then turned the page to the first chapter. She skimmed a bit, thought it sounded interesting, and then took a seat on one of the sofas.

~*~

Fucking idiot! Fucking stupid moron! She was going to kiss you! And what do you do, you stupid asshole? You jump back like she'd pulled a knife on you! Why would you- why would you ever--  


Brahms fumed the whole way to the west garden, grinding his teeth. Why had he panicked like that? It was what he'd literally been dreaming of, having Greta show an interest in him! Now here he was scarpering like... like... a god damned fool!  


He stopped in his tracks. Actually, maybe he was being really wise. If he'd let Greta kiss him then she'd have realized that he'd never kissed anyone before. He'd have done it all wrong or weird and she'd be put off by a grown man in his 30's not knowing how to kiss. She'd have been polite but the kisses wouldn't have led to anything and then they'd have spent the rest of their days being embarrassed around one another. He inwardly cringed at the very idea of it.  


Penny could help him, though. His dear friend Penny who hadn't let him down yet. His heart lifted at the thought of her. Penny could coach him. She always knew what to do.  


With a lighter step, Brahms continued on to the garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've shamelessly cast Chris in my head as Chris Evans. Google image search "bearded Chris Evans." That's this story's Chris. <3


	13. Chapter 13

Penny was making excellent progress in the garden. She'd been out as soon as the sun rose, leaving Brahms to sleep and then have his breakfast with Greta. Usually she waited until Brahms was ready before doing any work but after last night, she wasn't all that eager to see him. What had she been thinking, showing him that memory? It was so personal. He didn't need to know that much about her; the idea was for her to find out everything she could about Brahms to help him get his shit together and win over Greta. From there, she wasn't sure where they'd go. It wasn't like he and Greta could get married and move away to, like, Bournemouth or something. For one thing, Penny got the sense that Greta wasn't in the mental space for a serious relationship and for another thing, Brahms was dead on paper. No kind of ID or anything. He was rapidly learning how to be an adult but how patient would Greta be, having to coach her would-be boyfriend in some of the basics like ordering for himself in a restaurant or having to take a bus?  


She sighed and got up on her haunches, shifting over to another section of garden and got picking again. The pile of weeds next to her was just about as tall as she was. Well, it was at eye-level with where she crouched on the ground. Unlike when she was alive, her legs didn't ache in this position so she wasn't wasting valuable time shifting around to get comfortable. Her hands were still clean, too. No dirt got on her, but out of habit she'd made sure she was wearing a comfortable pair of jeans and an old t-shirt with a vintage Coca Cola logo on the front. It was what she'd worn back in high school when she'd helped her grandmother in her garden and she'd picked it out even though it made no difference what she wore; she could have worn a ball gown and still gotten as much work done.  


She thought of the look on Brahms's face if he found her doing yard work in a long, flowy dress and started to laugh.  


“What's so funny?”  


Startled, she looked up to see Brahms loping over in her direction. “Oh, nothing. How was Greta?”  


“Fine,” he said shortly. Oh, great. Another snitty little Brahms moment. He knelt down across from her and rolled up his sleeves, getting to work. For awhile, she admired the strong, thick veins in his arms before thinking _wait, what_ and focusing on the task at hand. She'd been thinking about his arms all night, weirdly enough. How he'd held her so gently while she'd cried about stupid Chris and his stupid lies.  


“So,” he said suddenly. “Er. About last night...”  


Penny didn't reply, just kept working.  


“I ah, I wanted to... thank you. For stopping me. I know my reason for killing Emily is stupid and I can't really defend it now. At least, I don't want to defend it anymore. I'd give anything to take it back.” He cleared his throat and she looked up at him. He was looking directly at her and Penny stopped pulling at weeds to listen to him. “And I hate everything you've been through, even the things I'm not directly responsible for. You didn't deserve any of it.”  


Suspiciously, Penny narrowed her eyes. “What do you want, Brahms?”  


His face went red and he said, “What, can't I apologize?”  


“I have yet to hear 'I'm sorry' in this whole speech of yours. What are you buttering me up for?”  


“Buttering--! I'm! I can't! Why can't you just--”  


“Brahms.”  


Giving up, he dropped his head and moaned, “I need more help.”  


“You don't need to suck up for that. I'm here to help, that's kind of my thing. It's what I was sent back for, after all.” Penny sat down from her crouch and clasped her hands over one knee. “Let's hear it.”  


For a moment, Brahms didn't speak. Then he quietly confessed, “Greta tried to kiss me this morning.”  


Penny felt a weird flutter of... something. Then his phrasing caught her attention and she asked, “What do you mean 'tried'?”  


“She leaned in and I panicked.”  


“Ohhhhhh, dude.” Penny pressed a hand to her cheek and had to smile at Brahms's look of shame. “Why? This is what you wanted, right?”  


“I don't know how to kiss!” Brahms exclaimed.  


Penny considered this. “Didn't you and Emily experiment...?”  


“We were eight,” Brahms said flatly.  


“Okay, true, sorry.” Penny held up her hands in a conciliatory manner. “Totally different from grown up kissing, I get it.” She dropped her hands back in her lap then asked, “Um, how do you expect me to help?”  


Brahms looked at her like she was an idiot. “Teach me how to kiss.”  


She gave him a baffled look. “What, like draw you a diagram?”  


He groaned and pressed a hand to his face, falling backwards. It was something he'd seen her do many times and it sort of touched her heart that he was picking up on her mannerisms.  


“What?” Penny said, laughing. She grabbed the toe of his boot and jiggled it playfully. “Come on, get up. What do you want me to do, Brahms? I'm just air. I guess I could kiss you like this but you wouldn't feel anything and the lesson would be pretty useless.”  


Brahms rose up on an elbow and raised his eyebrows at her. “Come into my dream and kiss me.”  


The pose and the words were both so intimate that Penny knew if she had a circulation still she'd be blushing right about now. “I don't know if I'd be able to do it again,” she said honestly. “I'm not sure how last night happened. You were having a nightmare and I was trying to comfort you, then suddenly I'm stopping you from your first murder.”  


He looked interested. “Comfort me how?”  


Awkwardly, she shrugged and looked away. “I tried to shake you awake but my hand went right through your shoulder. So... um. You were all sweaty and I tried to push your hair off your brow but my hand went through and then... boom. I'm in the forest.”  


“Thank you for trying,” he said gently.  


“Yeah, well.” Penny cleared her throat. “So, see, I don't really know what happened. If it was the time of night or the fact that you were having a nightmare... I'm not sure if we could replicate it.”  


Brahms nodded once decisively. “All right. When we stop for lunch, I'll take a nap and you'll see if you can get into my dream again. If you can't, you can't. And if you can, you can teach me how to kiss.”  


“I never agreed to that,” Penny said hastily.  


He suddenly looked wounded. “I thought you wanted to help me.”  


“Well! I do, it's just...” she trailed off, looking into his sad, hangdog face. “Okay, fine. Fine. I'll help you. Only because I said I would, not because--”  


“Because?” he prompted her when she didn't finish her sentence.  


“Oh, get weeding, would you,” she said grouchily. “Look at how much work I did while your ass was asleep.”  


Brahms looked amused but got to work, expertly plucking the weeds from the garden as she completely avoided looking at him.

~*~

They worked until nearly two o'clock and only stopped because Brahms started moaning about his back. Most of the garden was done and Penny figured that after a few hours break, they could come back in the late afternoon and have it finished well before dinner time. Then if all went well with this experiment Brahms was so hell-bent on attempting, he'd be kissing Greta after a hard day's work. Bully for him.  


Feeling annoyed and then feeling annoyed by not knowing why she was so annoyed, Penny led the way to the cottage and didn't say much. Brahms seemed to pick up on her mood and occasionally glanced over at her worriedly but he didn't comment. He didn't need to worry about her backing out; she said she'd help and she'd meant it.  


Once they were inside, Penny finally broke her silence. “Did you want to eat first or...?”  


“I'm not that hungry,” Brahms said quietly.  


“Okay. Do you feel sleepy enough to nap?”  


He sighed. “I think so. Everything aches.”  


Suddenly worried, Penny said, “I can go up to the house and see if there's any over the counter painkillers. They might even make you drowsy.”  


Brahms's smile was sweet and took her by surprise. “No, Penny, thank you. If I just lay down, I'll go right to sleep. I've always been that way. Mum says I was an easy baby.”  


“Okay.” Penny sat down in her chair and picked up the book she'd left on the arm. “I'll just wait here until you drop off. If it doesn't work, I'll let you sleep for a couple of hours. Any more than two and it ruins your sleep cycle so you won't be able to sleep tonight, either.”  


He looked amused as he lay down on the couch. “Thanks for the information.”  


She scowled and stared down at her book. “Whatever. Go to sleep.”  


It took him a few moments to get comfortable. His legs were slightly too long for the sofa so he worked out that he had to be slightly elevated in order to fit. Then he realized that his neck ached the way he was laying so he had to fuss with a pillow for awhile to get it right. Penny was ready to just send him upstairs which she should have done in the first place, but he eventually settled down.  


Penny read about five pages of her book before a sudden snore startled her. She looked up at Brahms and saw he'd dropped off with his arms crossed, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. Was he already dreaming? Probably dreaming about arguing with her. She set her book down and stood up to go over to him.  


Why was she so nervous? She'd done this before. And it probably wasn't going to work again. What was the big deal? Just do it. She slowly reached out her hand but startled back again when he snored once more, this time louder.  


Aw, fuck it. Just do it. She reached out for his head, worried that if it didn't work she'd poke him pretty sharply in the forehead, but like last time her fingers went right through and she found herself tumbling through space. It was just as unnerving as it was last night but she didn't scream this time around. Eventually she landed and took stock of her surroundings.  


It was the cottage. Specifically, the lounge. Basically the same place she'd just been.  


“Jesus, Brahms, have a little imagination,” Penny mumbled.  


Brahms suddenly came in from the kitchen, making her yelp. “About time you got here.”  


“I waited until you were snoring,” Penny said, settling down on the sofa.  


“I don't snore!”  


“Sure you don't.” Penny started to laugh. “How do you know you don't snore? It's not like you can hear it.”  


“You're the first person to say I do,” he said.  


“And how many people have had the opportunity of hearing you snore?” Before he could answer Penny waved him off. “Okay, whatever, forget it. Let's do this, hmm? Did you still want to learn how to kiss?”  


Brahms's sulky look cleared up and he nodded.  


Penny pat the seat next to her. “Well, come here, then. I can't kiss you way over there.”  


He hesitated and then joined her on the sofa.  


“Okay. First thing's first: don't force kissing. If the moment isn't right, don't do it.”  


“How do I know if the moment's right?” Brahms asked nervously.  


“You'll just know,” Penny said. “Or Greta will be looking at you like this.” She sat up straight and looked deeply into Brahms's eyes with a soft smile, practically willing him to kiss her. She glanced down at his mouth and then back up into his eyes again. “Kind of like that. And she'll get a little closer. Women are good at telegraphing wanting to be kissed.”  


He mulled this over and then nodded. “Okay, I think I get it. She sort of did that last night before she leaned in.”  


“Great,” Penny said a little crisply. “Okay, second of all, when you go in for the kiss tilt your head to the right so you don't bump noses. You've got a lot of nose in particular, so try to be careful.”  


Brahms lifted a self conscious hand to his face and glared at her. “Thanks.”  


“Lastly, don't get your hopes up. First kisses are almost always awkward. Sometimes your teeth clash, or there's a height difference you two haven't worked out yet so you're all contorted weird to even reach each other. Or one or both of you will have bad breath. It gets better once you've kissed the same person a few times so you're familiar with their style.”  


“Am I supposed to be taking notes?” Brahms asked.  


Penny tapped her temple. “Maybe up here. Now that we got that out of the way, ready for some hands on?”  


Brahms nodded again, sarcastic remarks forgotten.  


Penny slid closer. “Okay, here goes.”

~*~

He was only dreaming but it still felt like every nerve he had was pulled taut, waiting to actually get to the moment he could be kissing Penny. Finally after all of her know it all lecturing, she moved closer to him and leaned in.  


“Follow my lead,” she whispered, her breath warm on his mouth.  


He could only nod dumbly and then her lips softly touched his. Heat bloomed where their lips met and he shivered. As she started moving her lips against his, he drew in a shaky breath through his nose.  


“Okay, good,” she said softly and pulled back a little. “You want to keep your lips parted a little more or it'll make gross loud smacking sounds. I once made a boy cry because he was kissing me and the sounds were so bad I started laughing.”  


“I'm not going to cry,” Brahms said stupidly.  


She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling so it made him catch his breath. “I know; you're way tougher than some wimpy thirteen year old. Okay, I'm gonna go in for it again but this time I'm going to use a little tongue. Never, ever initiate tongue yourself. Ever. Always let your partner do it.”  


“Why?” Brahms asked curiously.  


Penny made a face. “Because guys always do it way too soon and it's always too much. Okay, ready?”  


“Ready,” he said and made a good effort of keeping his voice steady.  


“Kay,” she whispered and leaned in again.  


They kissed softly for a moment and then Penny ever so slowly parted her lips and he felt her tongue gently tap at his closed lips, asking for permission. He opened his mouth for her and moaned lowly when her tongue ever so gently stroked the inner seam of his lower lip. He shivered and she scooted closer, letting her tongue brush against his. He awkwardly followed her back into her own mouth and repeated what she'd done to him and they went back and forth for awhile until he felt comfortable with it. His hands were closed in fists at his sides, his heart beating wildly throughout.  


Penny pulled back from him and he was surprised at how hazy her eyes looked. She cleared her throat and said all low and soft, “One of the most important things about kissing has nothing to do with the kissing part. You have to touch. Like touch her face or her hair or even her hip. Like this.”  


She didn't ask if he was ready and went right back to kissing him, her tongue twining with his. As they kissed, her arms went around his neck, one hand threading through his hair. The feel of her fingers gently tugging the hair from his scalp instantly gave him an erection. He moaned again and looped his arms around her waist. Her t-shirt had pulled up a little from her jeans, leaving the small of her back exposed. He brushed her skin there lightly with his thumb and she whimpered. The sound made him start kissing her a little deeper, not keeping it so light and playful anymore.  


Penny broke the kiss with a gasp. “Wait... wait a second...”  


While she caught her breath, Brahms kissed along her jawline and down her neck. Her skin was so soft and smooth. When his lips found a certain spot on her neck, she suddenly mewled and threw her leg over his, straddling him.  


He stared up at her in wonder as she worked to make her eyes focus, blinking in confusion. “Um,” she said, blinking slowly. “Sorry. That was like, instinct. That spot's kind of--”  


Brahms found it again and flicked with his tongue and she let out a low, womanly moan that made his cock throb. She started to grind in his lap for a moment, her cheek resting on his head as she panted. Then just as suddenly as it started, she went still.  


“Wait. Sweetie, stop. Stop.”  


He lifted his head from the kisses he'd been lavishing on her neck. _Sweetie_. “Stop?”  


She shivered. “Yeah.” Gently, she unwrapped his arms from around her and settled beside him on the couch. “I think you've got the hang of it. You've got good instincts. Just... remember everything I told you and you'll be fine.”  


“Okay.” His voice sounded deeper than usual and he watched as her lashes fluttered and she looked back down at his mouth. Did she want him to kiss her again? He held out a hand. “Maybe just one more time, though?”  


Penny's mouth opened for a moment and then closed. “We can't. You've been asleep for awhile, now. It seems like no time at all but last night our two adventures lasted almost six hours.”  


“Six?” he asked in disbelief. “It hardly felt like one.”  


“I think time passes differently here.” She got up from the sofa. “I'll leave and then wake you up, okay?”  


He sighed, disappointed. “Yeah, great.”  


She paused a moment and said quietly. “Don't worry, you don't need anymore practice. You've got this.”  


“I'm not--” He stopped himself and then said. “Thanks. Thanks for helping me, Penny.”  


She smiled and it looked a little sad. “It's why I'm here. See you in a few.” She left the room and the same snapping sound from last night shattered the dream. Then he was jolted awake when Penny threw her book down hard on the floor.  


“God!” Brahms nearly fell off the sofa and glared at her.  


Penny just shrugged. “Sorry. I thought if I touched you, I'd just end up in dream land with you again. It's almost five and we need to finish that garden before dark. Wanna grab a snack to go?”  


“Five?” Brahms repeated in disbelief.  


“I told you that time--”  


“Passes differently. Yeah, yeah, hang on.” Brahms ambled into the kitchen to grab an apple and then followed Penny back outside, grateful that his erection was settling down. Though the hot feeling of desire still swirled around in his chest and stomach, Penny at least couldn't see those things.  


Though maybe she could if she even attempted to see them.


	14. Chapter 14

Brahms's hands were sweaty as he let himself into the kitchen. He now had some kissing practice so he shouldn't embarrass himself too badly tonight. That is, if Greta even wanted to kiss him after he backed away from her this morning. The air in the kitchen smelled great. Greta looked up from the stove and smiled at him.  


“Hey! I made spaghetti. There's salad on the table already and the garlic bread's ready to come out of the oven any minute now.”  


Garlic. Penny wasn't kidding when she'd said that bad breath might be a problem. He found himself smiling and Greta smiled back at him. He almost told her that he was smiling about something else unrelated to her but then realized that wasn't necessary. Instead, he sat down at the table and picked up the salad tongs in order to serve himself, smiling again when he saw the bits of onion nestled among the lettuce, radishes, and carrot. He carefully skirted the carrots which always made him gag, and watched Greta bustle about getting the rest of their dinner ready.  


Her hair was back in a ponytail and she was dressed in a comfortable jumper and jeans. He wondered if she owned any leggings, maybe some fun patterns. Penny had the fish scale leggings and the other day had worn a pair that looked like the night sky. She'd told him that she had a whole collection at home and then she'd gotten very quiet. Her home wasn't her home anymore, after all.  


“Oh, hey,” Greta said suddenly, surprising him out of his thoughts. “A couple packages came for you today. I left them on the table in the hall. They came around four otherwise I would have brought them over to you earlier.”  


“Ah. Thank you.” Brahms brightened.  


She sent him a curious look over her shoulder. “Were you expecting something?”  


He was fairly sure he'd told her about this before but he didn't expect her to remember every detail of his life. “I ordered some parts for the car a little over a week ago. I'm glad they're here now. We're all done with the weeding and now we'll have a new project.”  


“We?” Greta looked at him curiously.  


“Oh, me,” Brahms said, kicking himself. He had to stop mentioning Penny. “It's kind of an English thing to refer to yourself as we or us. It's something my aunt always did. I ah, didn't realize how often I said it until I met you.”  


Greta looked amused. “I get it. When I spend a lot of time with my sister, I start saying a lot of her, I don't know what you'd call them. Catch phrases? Anyway, she says 'awesome sauce' a lot and after I spend a day with her, I go around saying 'awesome sauce' until my friends tell me to stop.”  


Brahms laughed. “Awesome sauce?”  


“It was a popular thing to say about ten years ago. Not so much anymore. My nephew Morgan is always saying things are 'lit.'”  


“That's almost as bad as awesome sauce.”  


Greta laughed and took the garlic bread out of the oven. The smell was absolutely divine and Brahms's mouth watered. “Agreed. I don't really use much slang myself. It dates itself pretty quickly. What about you? What did you say when you were a kid?”  


Brahms had to think about it a moment. “Mostly just 'cool.' My mother and aunt didn't approve of slang.”  


They talked a bit more about language and how it changed over time as Greta finished putting their dinners together and joined him at the table. Everything was delicious and Brahms was happy to put the conversation on hold to cram everything into his mouth. The apple he'd had for lunch hadn't filled him up much and he was happy Greta had made something as substantial as pasta. He remembered Penny saying once that her favorite food was Italian and how much she'd loved all the restaurants in Rome. It was too bad she couldn't enjoy this, too.  


When he'd happily wolfed down his serving and taken Greta's offer of seconds, he sagged back in his chair, satisfied.  


“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “That was wonderful.”  


“You're welcome.” Greta was still working on her first serving of pasta but she was nearly finished. “Did you want to take some back with you?”  


“If I could,” Brahms said.  


“I'll get some Tupperware for you.” Greta stood and rummaged in a cupboard. “Just be sure to grab it before you go.”  


Brahms nodded. He stood and helped her with the dishes and putting the leftovers away. His Tupperware container of spaghetti was placed in the door so he could grab it quickly on his way out. Then he followed her to the game room where they played some pool. Luckily, he'd played with his father when he was little and still remembered how to play so he didn't have to embarrass himself. Greta was much better than him, though, and easily won their first game.  


Greta cracked open a bottle of wine for them and they continued to play for another hour. When Greta had won the second and third games she giggled and Brahms laughed, too.  


“I've always been a bit rubbish at pool,” Brahms said with a sheepish smile.  


“Nooo, you're not,” Greta said, leaning against the table. “You're just not as good as I am.”  


“That's true.”  


She giggled again and smiled up into his eyes, leaning just a little closer. His stomach dropped when he realized her gaze was locked on his mouth. When she raised up a little, tilting her head to the side, he gently grasped her arm and pushed her back.  


“Greta, stop,” he said gently.  


Her smile faded and she looked confused. “Oh. Um, sorry.”  


“It's all right,” Brahms said, his heart pounding. Why had he stopped her? The words came out without him even thinking about it, but all the same they felt true. “We've been drinking and... and I'm sort of seeing someone.”  


“Oh,” Greta said again. She lowered her pool cue to the table. “Okay.”  


Brahms cleared his throat and didn't really know what to do now. He also set his cue on the table. “I should go now.”  


“I'm sorry, Aaron. I didn't mean to make this weird.” Greta looked apologetic and so sad, his heart twisted a little.  


“No, you didn't make it weird. It's all right. The person I'm seeing... we aren't engaged or anything, it's still pretty new. But I still...”  


“Don't want to wreck anything,” Greta said, understanding.  


He exhaled a shaky breath. “Right. I really don't.”  


“Who's...” Greta raised her eyebrows.  


“No one you know,” Brahms said. “Her name's Regan.”  


“Regan,” Greta said. “Like Ronald or King Lear?”  


Brahms smiled. “King Lear.”  


“Is she nice?” Greta leaned against the table, folding her arms. She seemed genuinely curious.  


“Very,” Brahms said. “She likes to think she's tough and above it all but she'll drop everything if you're in trouble and run to help you. And she's patient and really good at teaching. She's taught me so much in the short time I've known her. I'd be absolutely lost without her.”  


Greta smiled and it showed in her eyes as well as her mouth. “You're glowing.”  


“Am I?” Brahms looked down at his hands on the table and shrugged. “Can't help it, I guess.”  


“You really like this girl,” Greta said. “My advice to you is to lock that shit down as soon as you can.”  


He wasn't entirely sure what that meant but he had a rough idea. “Thanks.”  


“Welcome.” Greta nodded and then put a hand to her head. “Whoo, I need to go to bed.”  


“Are you all right?” he asked, not feeling terribly steady himself. They'd polished off a bottle of wine and half of a second bottle.  


“Yeah, I'm good.” Greta gestured him out of the room and he followed her into the hall where he found two boxes waiting on the table. “Here's your car parts. And don't forget your leftovers!”  


“I won't. I'll lock the door on my way out.” Brahms gathered his things together.  


Greta nodded with a grateful smile on her face. “Thanks, Aaron. Good night.”  


“Good night.”  


Brahms staggered out the door with his car parts and spaghetti and remembered to keep his promise and lock the door. Then he stumbled along to the cottage, only dropping everything once. The Tupperware lid stayed on his food tightly, though, for which he was immensely grateful.  


When he came in the door, Penny was curled up in her chair but jumped nearly to the ceiling. “Jesus! Could you crash in any louder?!”  


“Sorry,” he mumbled.  


She set her book down and came over to him. “What's all this? Oh! The car parts?”  


“Yeah.” He handed everything to her and then folded his arms, stuffing his hands into his arm pits.  


“Uh, is this spaghetti?” Penny raised her eyebrows at him, looking at the Tupperware on top of the boxes.  


“Oh! Yeah. That goes in the refrigerator.” Brahms took the container and then swayed in place.  


Penny stared at him. “Yeah, I know.”  


“I'll go do that then. The refrigerator.” He headed towards the kitchen.  


“You're going to do the refrigerator?” Penny repeated him.  


“Yeah!” He opened the door to the fridge, tossed the Tupperware inside, and then came back to the living room to find Penny still holding the boxes but now she was silently laughing, biting her lip. “What?”  


“Brahms, are you drunk?” Penny asked, her voice quivering with laughter.  


He mulled that over for a minute, amusing Penny more. “Yes. Yes, I believe I am.”  


She couldn't suppress it anymore and started laughing openly. Her laughter made Brahms laugh, too, which he did so much he snorted. Penny set the boxes she was holding on the coffee table and then walked over to him to take his hands.  


“Come on, sweetie, you need to get to bed,” she said. “I'll get you some water and aspirin.”  


There was that word again. Sweetie. Brahms really, really liked it. “I like your hair,” he said.  


“Thanks.” Penny gave him her sparkly smile and helped him up the stairs. He tripped twice but Penny had a good grip on him and had him upright in no time at all. Once they'd reached his bedroom she gently pushed him onto the bed and sat down next to him to start unlacing his boots.  


Brahms tossed his arm over his head, watching her. “You take care of me.”  


“Of course I do,” she said, pulling his boots off.  


He sighed. “I wish I could take care of you back. But you never need anything.”  


“I need more books,” Penny said. “When we get the car running tomorrow, you can take me into town and buy some for me.”  


Brahms beamed at her brightly. “Yeah! Yeah, I'll do that! I'll buy you books, Penny!”  


She giggled and stood up. “I'll go get your water and aspirin. Change out of your clothes while I'm gone, okay?”  


“I'll try,” he said. When she left the room, he managed to remove his jeans and his gray button up shirt. He was fine with sleeping in his boxer shorts and undershirt. But Penny might feel awkward seeing him in his pants. Brahms got under the covers and was all settled when Penny came in with the glass and two aspirin in her hand.  


“Okay, swallow these and drink at least half of this glass before you go to sleep,” Penny said. “You'll thank me later.”  


Brahms accepted his medicine and then dutifully drank his water. In fact, he drank the whole glass and then proudly showed the empty glass to Penny, making her laugh again.  


“Good job,” she said and then reached for the lamp on his nightstand. “Go right to sleep, Brahms.”  


“Will you dream with me again, Penny?” Brahms asked.  


“I don't think that's a good idea, sweetheart,” Penny said softly. “You need your rest.”  


He sighed. “Okay. I feel really tired. But I'll miss you.”  


She smoothed a hand over his forehead. It felt like cool air. “You'll see me in the morning, silly. Good night.”  


“Goodnight.” Brahms yawned and rolled to his side. In seconds, he was deeply asleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Squinting in the morning light, Brahms rolled to his side and smacked his lips. He hadn't dreamed at all the night before and he felt well rested and satisfied. Why did he feel so good? He mentally ran through the previous night and then went still.  


He'd pushed Greta away. _Again_. And he'd lied, making up a girlfriend. He raised a hand to his hair. Why had he done that? It hadn't felt like lying but he didn't have a girlfriend named Regan, he didn't even know anyone named--  


“Brahms? Are you awake?” Penny lightly tapped on the door.  


“Yes!” Brahms raised up on his elbows. “I'm awake!”  


She stepped through the door, something that used to be alarming when she did it but he'd gotten used to it. In fact, it stopped bothering him ever since the the time she'd tried to walk through the door while holding one of her books. Predictably, she'd gotten stuck when the book hadn't been able to pass through as easily as she could. He'd laughed until he'd cried, watching her swear and try to pull the book after her before realizing that it was a solid object, unlike her. Then she'd started laughing too and had even said to him, “Wow, am I dumbass.”  


Now Penny stood before him in her baseball tee and jeans, her car repair clothes. She tilted her head to the side, concern showing on her face. “Hungover?”  


“What?” he asked, frowning.  


“Are you hungover?”  


“I don't know what that means,” Brahms said uncertainly.  


She gave him a comforting smile. “Headache and nausea?”  


He shook his head. “Nope. I'm fine.”  


“Ha!” Penny pointed at him. “I told you, aspirin and water before bed. It works like a charm. I never once had a hangover all through college doing that. Well, also, the last hour of being out, I'd stop drinking and switch to water, maybe eat something. But still!”  


Brahms smiled and propped up the pillows behind him so he could sink backwards. “You know everything.”  


“Maybe not everything, but I do know a lot,” Penny said. She raised her eyebrows and then bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly. “So are you getting up soon?”  


“Yes.” He stared at the way her ponytail draped over one shoulder, framing her left breast. It drew his eye and he could feel his cock twitch with interest.  


“Good, because I really want to work on the car,” Penny said in a rush. She beamed at him and warmth spread all through his chest.  


Brahms rubbed a hand over his head. “You don't have to wait for me. Go ahead.”  


Penny hesitated and then said, sounding a little embarrassed, “It's funner with you.”  


“Ah, Pen,” he said softly. He tossed his covers aside and stood up. He wavered a little woozily but caught his balance. The warmth in his chest ran everywhere when Penny came forward with a hand out to catch him if she needed to. “Give me ten minutes and I'll be right down.”  


It took a moment for her to drop her hand, satisfied that he could stand on his own. “Okay. I'll be downstairs.”  


“Reading?”  


“Nope. Drawing!” She gave him a little grin and went back out the door.  


Brahms stood there a moment. Penelope Regan Beech. _Regan_. His smile widened. Maybe he wasn't such a big liar, after all? His drunken self had latched on to Penny in his mind, loyal to her even as he was trying to be with someone else. Even when he had every right to be with someone else, even had Penny's approval to be with someone else. But he just couldn't do it. Greta was lovely, probably the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. But Penny was... _Penny_. His Penny. Well, at present she wasn't his Penny, but she could be.  


Pondering, Brahms went into the bathroom for a quick shower.

~*~

“Okay, try it!”  


Penny slammed the hood shut and took a step back. Brahms nodded to her and turned the key in the ignition. It protested a bit and then something turned over and the engine roared to life. Squealing, Penny jumped up and down, throwing her arms up into the air. Brahms got out of the car, grinning, and Penny ran to him, leaping into his arms and hugging him tightly.  


“You did it!” she exclaimed.  


“I just did what you told me to do,” Brahms said, hugging her back. He wished they were in dreamland where he could actually feel her and not just air.  


“Exactly!” She pulled back and looked up into his face, eyes sparkling. “You didn't try to argue with me and do things your own way. You followed instructions and believed what I told you and... ta dah!”  


He chuckled. “Ta dah.”  


Giggling, Penny pulled back. “How about some driving lessons, then?”  


Brahms shrugged a shoulder. “Teach me more, wise one.”  


Penny grabbed his hand and tugged him to the car, both of them smiling foolishly.

~*~

They spent about three hours tooling around the back roads, luckily not encountering any other motorists. Penny explained what everything in the car did, sometimes learning right along with him since the car was a bit different from cars in the states. They'd already been driving for an hour and a half when she suddenly swore viciously and said, “Wait, other lane, other lane! You drive on the left over here! Fuck, I'm sorry Brahms. If someone had come along they'd have killed us.”  


“They'd have killed _me_ ,” Brahms pointed out. “Then we could be ghosts together.”  


She'd looked sad and gazed out the window. Feeling stupid for spoiling their good time, Brahms had driven for about half an hour in total silence. Eventually she'd looked back at him and the good feeling returned because she said cheerfully, “Are you feeling up to a trip into town?”  


“I think so,” Brahms said, feeling nervous.  


“We don't have to,” Penny said quickly. “You've only been driving for a few hours.”  


Brahms exhaled a long breath and then shook his head. “No, let's go. I need to be around other people. And you need new books.”  


They drove along in silence until Penny said, “So, um. I never asked but... how did things go with Greta last night?”  


He hesitated. “Fine. She tried to kiss me again.”  


“Tried? What happened now?” Penny asked, frowning at him.  


“Well, we were both drunk,” Brahms said. “I didn't want to take advantage.”  


Penny didn't say anything and he risked a glance to his side to look at her. She had the most beautiful, complicated smile on her face. A mixture of annoyance, pride, and... relief?  


“That's very gentlemanly of you, Brahms,” Penny said.  


“Yes, well, I learned it from all of your lecturing,” Brahms muttered, looking back at the road. But he smiled when he heard her laugh quietly.  


Penny leaned forward to the radio. “How about some music? All we've had for weeks is those old records of your dad's.” She switched it on and lovely piano music filled the car. She gasped and said, “Oh my god, I haven't heard this song in years!”  


“What is--” Brahms cut himself off when a soft, female voice started singing and Penny joined in.  


_He's very understanding, he's so aware of all my situations_  
_When I stay up late, he's always waiting_  
_When I feel him I hesitate_  
_Oh I'm so worried about my love_  
_They say 'No no, it won't last forever'_  
_And here I am again, my girl, wondering what on earth I'm doing here_  
_Maybe he doesn't love me, I just took a trip on my love for him_  
_Ooooh, he's here again: the man with the child in his eyes_  
_Ooooh, he's here again: the man with the child in his eyes_  


Penny sighed softly as the music faded. “Kate Bush,” she explained to him. “I went through this huge Kate Bush phase when I was in high school. I was a huge Anglophile then; I would have given my left arm for an English boyfriend.” She laughed nervously and turned the volume down when the announcer came on and started speaking rapidly and much too loudly.  


“Ah,” Brahms said, not knowing what to say to that. Other than _Do you still feel that way? I could be your English boyfriend a few years too late. Better late than never though, eh?_ “I, er, wanted an American girlfriend when I was little. I thought we'd go to the beach and eat pizza.”  


Penny was suspiciously silent so Brahms cut another glance her way and saw she had her hands pressed to her mouth, shoulders shaking uncontrollably. “Oh, come on now,” Brahms said disgustedly. “It's hardly that funny.”  


She dropped her hands and exploded into laughter, giggling and kicking her legs. Her long, golden hair fell over her face and even though she was laughing at him, he felt a sudden overwhelming wave of love for her. This obnoxious know it all who up until recently took every opportunity to make fun of him was now the most precious thing in the world to him. The force of his feelings shook him so badly, he accidentally swerved the car off the road.  


“Whoa!” Penny reached uselessly for the dashboard, laughter all dried up. “Careful!”  


“Sorry!” Brahms righted the car, heart pounding wildly from both the near miss and his newly realized Penny love.  


“No, I'm sorry,” Penny said, shaking her head. “I shouldn't distract you while you're driving. Let's just put the radio on and we can talk when we're in town.”  


“We can't really do that, though, can we?” Brahms said. “I'll look batty wandering about mumbling to myself.”  


She laughed some more but bit her lip before she could get out of hand again. “That's true. Well, is there anything you need to say right now before we get there?”  


_I love you and you'll never love me since I'm the one who murdered you._ “No.” Then something actually occurred to him and he said, “Wait. When we get to the bookshop, just touch the spines so I know which ones you want. Since we won't be able to talk.”  


“Good idea.” Penny nodded. “And I think you should park far, far away from any other cars. Absolutely no parallel parking, either. That one's pretty tricky and something even I struggle with still. I know I'd be crap at trying to teach it, anyway.”  


Brahms gasped. “Something you aren't good at?!”  


“Oh, shut up!” Penny tossed her hands up, making him chuckle. “Yes, there's things I'm not good at! I suck at parallel parking, I tried to learn how to knit and only made a mess, I was asked to leave ballet class because I sucked so hard and made everyone around me _worse_ , and I'm bad at soccer. I always forget which goal is mine and which one belongs to the other team.”  


Brahms laughed some more. “So you've scored goals for the other team?”  


“Yes!” Penny slumped back in her seat. “I was nine and one of the girls on my team called me a stupid bitch. I quit on the spot and cried for hours afterwards.”  


Brahms stopped laughing. “That girl's the bitch, not you.”  


Penny smiled over at him. “Brahms, this happened over twenty years ago. It's not a big deal.”  


“No one has any business calling you a bitch,” he snapped. “It isn't funny.”  


Her smile faded. “You've said some pretty shitty stuff to me yourself, you know.”  


“I have,” Brahms said, nodding his acknowledgment. “I'm sorry, Penny. I was different then. We're friends now and I'm never, ever going to talk to you the way that I used to. I resented some of the things you said to me, but you only said them because I did the most unforgivable thing in the world to you. I'm sorry.”  


Penny pinched her lip between her thumb and forefinger, looking at him. “Okay,” she said quietly.  


Suddenly embarrassed by this airing of his feelings, Brahms cleared his throat and then reached for the radio, turning up the volume so they couldn't talk anymore.

~*~

Between the time it took to get out of the car and walk a few blocks to the bookshop, Penny changed her outfit from her t-shirt and jeans to her favorite book shopping outfit: a black dress patterned with red poppies, black tights, red low-top Converse shoes, and a faux red leather jacket. Brahms noted the change with his eyes but didn't say anything. Even if they hadn't agreed to keep mum in public, she had a feeling he wouldn't have said anything; they'd been pretty shy with each other since his unexpected apology. He'd come a long way from the smelly, masked creep who'd thrown her down a flight of stairs.  


The shop was small and charming, with shelves absolutely packed with books. There were some stacked on tables here and there and a woman in her late fifties popped out from behind one such stack and cheerfully greeted Brahms when they walked in.  


“Looking for something in particular, love?” she asked Brahms.  


“Er, yes, actually,” he said bashfully. “A children's picture book called Amelie's Memory Garden.”  


The woman smiled. “You're in luck. We have one copy. Follow.”  


Penny wandered and looked at the shelves. She didn't need to see that book again. In all honesty, she never _wanted_ to see that book again. It hurt her heart just thinking about it. Chris told her that she was being irrational but it turned out he hadn't exactly been the king of rationality himself so he could just suck it with his unasked for analyses of her feelings.  


She huffed to herself and pulled a book off the shelf. She knew Brahms had asked her to point out what she wanted but he wasn't paying attention. If the woman looked around, she wouldn't see a book floating, anyway. Carrying objects around had been one of the first ways Penny had tried to get the elder Heelshires' attention but apparently when she picked up objects, they disappeared in her grasp. She started a small pile on one of the tables, finding some Daphne du Maurier, Susan Hill, and Dark Matter by Blake Crouch. That was just the fiction side of things and went to look at some books on folklore. She was pondering the spines of books on Irish legends when Brahms appeared next to her.  


“I think I'm ready to go,” Penny said. She pointed to the table. “The books I want are stacked there.” She ignored the thin book under his arm.  


Acting naturally, Brahms looked at the shelf for a bit longer until she pointed at a book she wanted and he added it to his picture book. Then he sauntered to the table, casually picked up her stack, then walked everything to the register where the woman happily rang him up.  


Out in the car again, Penny said, “Thank you, Brahms. I'm really excited to start these.”  


“Good. You can read while I pick up some lunch,” he said. He turned the car down another road and found a McDonalds. He even braved the drive-thru and that was only because Penny got out and took a long look at the menu while he was in line so he knew exactly what he wanted when he got to the window. He happily guzzled his fries as he drove them home, Penny sighing loudly over missing junk food. To take her mind off of it, she cracked open one of her new books and began reading. Soon she was transplanted to another world where Brahms didn't exist, smacking his lips as he shoved a cheeseburger into his face.

~*~

Back at home, Brahms spied on Penny reading in her chair. He couldn't handle it anymore. Everything bottled up inside of him was just aching to come out. There were times it felt like maybe she felt the same way. Perhaps not as strongly as he felt them, but something was there. That look on her face when she found out he hadn't kissed Greta. Her smile. The tender way she looked after him when he was drunk.  


Well, get on with it.  


“Penny?”  


She drew in a deep breath and reluctantly tore her eyes from the page she'd been devouring. Blinking a few times, she gave him a tiny smile. “Hmmm?”  


“I need your help. Once more.”  


“Sure. What do you need?”  


Her lack of hesitation gave him courage. “Another kissing lesson.”  


“Oh.” She closed the book. “Are you sure? I don't think you have anything to worry about. You're a fast learner. I mean, look how quickly you picked up driving. My first time behind the wheel, I backed into the garage and Grandma made me pay for the repairs out of my allowance.”  


“Well, driving's pretty straight forward,” Brahms said, thinking fast. “There's more nuance to kissing.”  


Penny seemed to think that over. “I guess so...”  


“So? Will you help me?”  


“It's just going to be this time?” Penny asked. “No more lessons after this.”  


Brahms shrugged. “Maybe? At least until Greta and I start kissing all the time.”  


Her expression shuttered and he regretted his words instantly. “Yeah, good point. Okay. Go up to bed and I'll come check on you in a bit.”  


“All right.” Brahms nodded and went upstairs. He cleaned his teeth thoroughly and brushed his tongue for good measure. Then he got changed for bed, leaving off his shirt entirely and just keeping on his slouchy pajama bottoms.  


Once the butterflies in his stomach settled, crept under the covers and turned onto his side. He breathed slowly for several minutes and then drifted into sleep.

~*~

When Penny touched Brahms, she was ready for the fall through space and landed softly in a quaintly decorated room. Everything was so white and clean looking, the furniture a pale wood that shone in the sparkling sunlight. She was in bed and rolled over, looking at the window. She could hear seagulls.  


“Hello.”  


Startled, she turned and found Brahms laying there beside her. He smiled slowly.  


“Where's this, then?” Penny asked. He wasn't wearing his shirt. The bedclothes covered him but hopefully he had something on below. Oh god, was _she_ even dressed? She glanced quickly down. Yeah, she was in a nightgown. Definitely not her flannel nightie. It was something she'd never seen before, and certainly never owned, some white satin number that felt amazing against her skin.  


“Cornwall,” he said. Did his voice always sound that deep? It was like warm honey, wrapping around her. “We came here on holiday once to visit my aunt. We never came back; my mum and Mildred never really got along.”  


“My grandma had a friend named Mildred,” Penny said and immediately felt like an idiot.  


He smiled. “I'm ready for my lesson, Penny.”  


“Right,” she said, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat. “I see you've uh, set the mood. So let's... get to it, then.”  


Brahms's eyes glowed as he smiled at her and slid across the crisp white sheets to press his mouth ever so softly to hers. Her lashes fluttered shut and she looped her arms around his neck. The uncertainty he'd displayed last time was all gone as he splayed one hand on the flat of her back and pulled her closer. God, she'd missed kissing. That's what was making her feel so melty right now. Just... kissing in general.  


She parted her lips to deepen the kiss and Brahms followed her lead, mindful of how much saliva he was producing, careful not to get too porno with his tongue and... and... his hands were smoothing over her shoulders and his mouth moved from hers to her neck and found her spot. The spot that made her mewl and her toes curl. She rolled to her back and wrapped her legs around his waist, whimpering.  


“Shhh,” he whispered against her, making her shiver. His warm breath on her damp skin was making her so dizzy. His hands were on her shoulders now, stroking while he kissed her neck. She panted and bucked her hips a little. This was going so fast. This felt so intimate and...  


His stroking hands had pulled the straps of her nightgown down which she didn't realize until his hot mouth latched onto her exposed nipple and gave a good, hard suck.  


“Unh!” She grasped his head, fingers clutching his curls. “Oh god! Brahms!”  


“Mmm.” He sucked harder and then those hands of his traveled below the covers and started to inch her nightgown up, up over her hips and--  


“Wait!” Penny pushed his head away from her breast roughly, making him grunt in surprise. She hastily pulled her nightgown back into place and struggled to sit up. “Wait!”  


He rose up onto his knees and regarded her, his curls tumbled into his eyes as he breathed heavily, his mouth red and glistening. He looked wild, wilder than he had as a feral wall-dwelling creature and that realization had her tumbling out of the bed and crossing the room to get some space between them.  


“What the fuck was that?” Penny exclaimed. “Practice? Practice for what? What are you planning on doing with Greta? Jesus, Brahms!”  


“I wasn't planning to do anything with her,” he said calmly.  


Penny folded her arms over her chest when she realized he was staring at her erect nipples through the flimsy nightgown she had on. “Excuse me? You specifically asked me to be here so you could practice. So you wouldn't embarrass yourself in front of Greta. Am I remembering that wrong? Help me out here, Brahms.”  


“You're remembering correctly.” He shrugged. “I lied.”  


“Lied?” Penny could only stare at him, dumbfounded. “Lied...? About what? I don't understand. How long have you been lying?”  


“The first time we practiced it was for Greta. At least for awhile. When you ended up in my lap, I knew I wanted to kiss you more. Not Greta. You. So last night when we had dinner together and she wanted to kiss me, I told her that I already had a girlfriend.”  


“Who?” Penny asked aghast. When he looked at her like she was thick, she pointed at herself. “Me? I'm the girlfriend?”  


“I'd like you to be.” Brahms drew in a deep breath and then in that dark honey voice said, “I love you, Penny.”  


At first she thought she wasn't hearing correctly. Her ears and auditory processing center in her brain protected herself and turned it into “I dove you, Penny” which made no kind of sense. She was about to demand he repeat himself when she realized what he'd actually said. A wild burst of joy went through her but then completely shattered.  


No.  


“Oh,” she said softly and drew in a shuddery breath. “Oh, Brahms sweetie.”  


His face lit up. “I like when you call me-”  


She held up a hand. “Stop.” Tears formed in her eyes. “Brahms, this can't... this can't be--I'm dead. My life is over, sweetheart. You can't...” She swallowed hard, watching his face fall. “This is all wrong for you. You need someone living to share your life with. I'm nothing. I'm air.”  


“You're everything,” he said, his voice low. “You're more alive than anyone I've ever met.”  


“You've met like, four people,” she said gently. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry for encouraging this and letting it get to this point.” Her tears fell and she took another step back when Brahms made to get off the bed and come to her. “If I did anything to lead you on, I'm sorry.”  


Brahms leaned forward, sitting on the edge of the bed now. “Pen.”  


She shook her head. “I think we need to cool off. I'm going to move back into the house. Maybe if I'm not there you'll realize that you were just reaching out for me because I was the safe choice. Greta can reject you and leave. It's easy to latch on to the woman who's always going to be there.”  


He was shaking his head adamantly. “No. Believe me, nothing is safe or easy about you, Penny. Don't go.”  


“I need to.” She turned to the door. “Get some sleep, Brahms. Maybe in a week or so we can talk again and figure out how to go forward.”  


“A _week_?! Penny, come back! Can't we just--”  


But she opened the door and closed it behind her. She was back in the cottage, standing next to Brahms's bed. He yelped softly in his sleep and his whole body twitched.  


Shaking, Penny left the room. Before he could wake up, she gathered up her new books and her art supplies and then left the cottage, hoping upon hope that he wouldn't follow. It wouldn't be good for him. For either of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "The Man With the Child in His Eyes" by Kate Bush


	16. Chapter 16

Greta was halfway through her breakfast when the door opened and Aaron trudged in. She sat up a little straighter at the sight of him. It looked like he hadn't bothered to brush his hair and the tail of his shirt hung out on one side like he'd forgotten to tuck it in. He murmured a greeting but didn't really look at her, just going to the cupboard for a plate and then serving himself a fried egg and bacon from the stove top.  


“Morning,” Greta said cautiously. “So, uh, it sounded like you got the car running yesterday.”  


“Yes.” Aaron sat down at the table and picked up a fork. He poked at his egg, shoulders slumped.  


“Everything okay?” she asked.  


He glanced up briefly. “The car runs fine. You can use it to go into town when you like.”  


“Oh. Thanks. That's actually really nice.” She smiled but he didn't smile back, not even looking at her. “Aaron, are you okay?”  


For a moment, his face crumbled and Greta worried he was going to start crying. Men crying always put her on edge; it had been a favorite manipulation tactic of Cole's early in their relationship when he'd slap her and she'd try to leave. She knew Aaron wasn't doing anything like that but male tears instinctively made her tense up.  


“I uh, I saw Regan yesterday.” He pushed the egg around his plate and swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in what looked like a really painful way. “I told her how I felt about her and... she doesn't want to see me anymore.”  


Greta winced. “Oh, no. I'm so sorry.” He didn't respond. “Did she say why...?”  


“She thinks she isn't right for me.” Aaron dropped his fork to the table and met Greta's eyes, looking earnest. “But she is! She's perfect in every way! There's some personal things that we'd need to work out of course. She's right to have some concerns but cutting me off entirely...!”  


“I'm sorry,” Greta said again. She hoped he wasn't going to ask for advice; she was the absolute worst when it came to relationship advice. “Maybe after you've given her the space she needs, you can talk it out?”  


Aaron nodded and wiped at his eyes which Greta was distressed to see were now leaking tears. “Space. Yes. She said that we could talk about it again in a week. But that's time in which she can convince herself that we'd be terrible together and I... I--”  


“Hold on,” Greta said a little sharply. “Aaron, I know you're upset, but Regan asked you for space and you need to respect that. I know you feel like you could solve all your problems if you only talk it out but the thing is, it sounds like she isn't ready to talk. What exactly did you say to her?”  


“I told her I loved her.”  


“Wow,” Greta said softly. “Yeah, she just needs a little time to process. Let her come to you.”  


Aaron looked at her in desperation. “What if she doesn't come to me?”  


“Then it wasn't mean to be,” Greta said, eyes sympathetic.  


Groaning, Aaron thumped his head down on the table. “Fuck.”  


“I know.” Greta reached over and gently patted him on the shoulder. “Do you want some coffee?”  


He lifted his head. “No. I'm not really that hungry. Do... do you mind if I use your restroom?”  


She looked at his teary face and said, “I don't mind at all.”  


“Thank you.” He got up and slumped out of the room. Greta looked down at his untouched food and felt a wave of sadness for him. He always loved breakfast and now he was so distraught, he couldn't eat a bite of it.

~*~

Brahms washed his face in the sink and looked at his reflection, sniffling. He stared at his burn scars and tried to see the attractive man that Penny claimed was there. He didn't see him. Maybe he wasn't there and Penny had been trying to be nice. But at that time, Penny hadn't cared about being nice, she said anything that came to her mind. She didn't like curls, though. He touched his hair, noticing that he hadn't brushed it. Well, who gave a shit? Greta didn't. Brahms sure didn't. And Penny wasn't even going to see it if she was really going to avoid him for a week.  


He dried his face off on a towel and then started heading back to the kitchen. As he passed the library, he ducked in, hoping he'd see her, but it was empty. She had to have known he'd look for her here.  


“Pen?” he whispered anyway. “Are you here?”  


He waited for a response and when none came, he sighed heavily and left the room.

~*~

Penny stared at her book pile on the desk and rested her chin on her drawn up knees. She'd decided to hole up in Brahms's wall living area, knowing that he'd never come back here. She wasn't sure how many days it had been since she'd left the cottage. There weren't any windows to check the time of day and she mostly ignored the voices she heard. It was almost always Greta on the phone. Brahms didn't come upstairs during meal times so she hadn't heard him if he'd been in the house at all.  


Maybe being in his room wasn't the best idea. It made her miss him. She could picture him shuffling around, arranging his taxidermy animals just so, or lounging on his bed watching television. She'd suggested he bring the tv to the cottage but they'd both forgotten about it. Now it hung on the wall and Penny had turned it on once only to discover that the Heelshires didn't actually have any channels; the television was just so he could watch movies. None of the movies were anything she was interested in, mostly just children's films he'd probably enjoyed as a child. The Land Before Time, Fantasia, Watership Down.  


“I can't take this anymore,” Penny said out loud. She glanced at the clock on the DVD player and saw that it was 3:30 p.m. Lunch was over and dinner wasn't for hours. It should be safe to leave the walls and maybe walk around the house a bit to break up the tedium. She'd been feeling too upset to read, something she'd never experienced prior to making Brahms Heelshire's acquaintance.  


Penny stepped through the wall and walked down the hallway. It was gray outside but not raining. Everything had a glum cast over it, something that she appreciated in her current mental state. She started drifting down the stairs but paused when she heard voices, her heart pounding hard. It took her a moment to recognize the male voice as Malcolm's. She wasn't sure if that realization was a relief or a disappointment.  


“Well, it's too bad they've broken up,” Malcolm was saying as Penny followed their voices to the game room. “Poor bugger. Don't you have any mates you can set him up with?”  


“In America,” Greta said dryly.  


Penny stood in the doorway and watched the two of them play pool.  


“Right. Yeah. Guess it'll be up to me, then.” Malcolm took his shot and missed, standing upright once more. “I'm not sure if I know anyone willing to overlook his ah...” He gestured around his face.  


“It's kind of a hard sell,” Greta agreed. “And he's so quiet. It really seemed like this Regan was perfect for him.”  


“I guess Regan didn't agree with him,” Malcolm said, raising his eyebrows. “She gets a say in the matter, after all.”  


Greta sighed. “I know. Believe me. But if you'd only seen him that day. He didn't eat anything and could only cry. I haven't seen him since. I hope he's okay.”  


“You haven't gone to check on him?” Malcolm frowned at her.  


Greta blinked. “Well, no. I hardly know him and I'm not sure how much help I could be for him. I was thinking about leaving a casserole on his porch but that's what you do when someone dies, right? It felt weird.”  


“Jesus Christ,” Penny snapped. “You never really go out of your way to speak to him, do you? He always has to come to you! No wonder he fell in love with me instead; you're so self centered!”  


Malcolm's head whipped around, eyes searching. Shit, Penny had almost forgotten he could hear her. She moved to leave but his frantic search for the source of the voice meant he was looking all over the room. Her movement drew his attention to the mirror and then... there they were staring one another in the eyes.  


“Oh my god,” Malcolm breathed.  


Penny went still. He could see her. Actually see her, not just an outline or anything. He looked from her reflection to where she was standing several times, not answering Greta as she kept asking him what was wrong.  


Well. Shit. Penny raised a hand to greet him and said, “Hi, Malcolm.”

~*~

“Wait, what?” Greta exclaimed. “This house is haunted? You said it wasn't!”  


“I said that I'd never seen anything,” Malcolm said. “Not actually a lie. I've been hearing that buzzing for ages, though, and it's been that girl trying to speak to me. At first I thought it was Brahms but it didn't make sense; why would he wait until now to say anything? I figured it had to be one of the nannies and it was the young one.”  


“What are you talking about?” Greta nearly shouted.  


They were walking down the hallway to the library, where Malcolm went through the drawers of a desk until he found a notepad and a pen, something that the girl in the mirror had mimed for him to get.  


“I told you that the Heelshires have been looking for a nanny for the last year. There have been two before you. One was an elderly woman who died in her sleep. The other was the girl who's in the mirror right now. Not many people know about her, it was kept pretty quiet. Apparently she'd gotten up in the night and got disoriented. She fell down the stairs and broke her neck.”  


Greta stared at him, jaw dropped. “Oh my god. And you never told me about this?!”  


“Well, I didn't want to alarm you,” Malcolm said.  


They walked back to the game room, Malcolm leading the way while Greta glared daggers at his back. “Well, I'm alarmed! I've been living with a ghost all this time! Did she shut me in the attic?”  


“I guess that's what we're going to find out.”  


Back in the room, Malcolm approached the mirror and smiled awkwardly at the girl. Greta stood off to the side, arms folded. She wasn't able to see anything but now that she knew there was a ghost in the house, she felt every single hair on her body stand on end. Maybe it was all an elaborate prank; she was taking it on faith that Malcolm was actually seeing something.  


Malcolm held up the pen and notepad and suddenly they disappeared from his hands.  


Greta jumped backwards, heart pounding hard. “Jesus!”  


“It's all real, Greta,” Malcolm said quietly. “I'm sorry.”

~*~

Malcolm stared at the girl in the mirror. She was wearing a black crop top with the neckline cut out so it slipped off one shoulder and a truly bizarre pair of leggings that looked like fish scales. Her long blonde hair hung down her back and framed her sad, slightly self conscious face. He really was staring like a fool but it wasn't as if he could look away; she was starting to write on the notepad and he had to know what she was saying.  


She turned the pad around and he felt a bit of admiration for her since she'd thought to write it backwards so he could read it in the reflection.  


MY NAME IS PENELOPE BEECH.  


“Hello, Penelope,” he said softly. “I think you've been trying to talk to me for awhile, haven't you?”  


YEAH, BUT I GAVE UP. YOU'RE SORT OF A DOOFUS.  


Malcolm laughed and then said. “So you talked to Aaron instead? He can see you?”  


Greta jolted. “Wait, what?”  


Penelope was frowning at him but he held up a finger _one second_ and turned to Greta. “She's the one I heard at the cottage when we first spoke with Aaron. And I recognize her as his date when I peeked in that night.”  


He turned back to the mirror to see Penelope holding up the pad while glaring angrily at him. YOU SPIED ON US????  


“We were going to invite Aaron out but the music was too loud for him to hear us. I opened the door and saw you two dancing in the mirror. Didn't want to interrupt his date since I had my own to go on and... that's it. We weren't _spying_ ,” he added the last bit defensively and felt like a bit of a prat.  


“Are you Regan?” Greta asked, looking in the wrong place. Her voice was soft. “You are, aren't you.”  


Penelope's face fell. REGAN'S MY MIDDLE NAME.  


“She is,” Malcolm relayed the message.  


“Shit,” Greta breathed.  


“Penelope, are you and Aaron...?” Malcolm didn't know how to finish the question.  


NO. I NEED TO FIND A WAY TO LEAVE HERE. I'M DOING MORE HARM THAN GOOD, I THINK.  


“What's going on?” Greta asked.  


Malcolm stared at the message. “She wants to leave.”  


“Like leave the house? Or to... go to the other side or whatever?” Greta looked between Malcolm and the mirror, frowning.  


“Penelope, do you need to move on to... I don't know, whatever comes next?” Malcolm asked. She nodded. “What do you need for that to happen?”  


YOU'RE THE GHOST WHISPERER, I WAS HOPING YOU'D KNOW.  


“Cute,” Malcolm muttered. His brows furrowed in thought. “I don't know. But I may know someone who would. It'll take some time, though.”  


I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE. Penelope thought a moment and then wrote, I'M AT THE HOUSE FOR THE TIME BEING.  


“Not the cottage?” Malcolm asked and regretted it when Penelope's face fell and she shook her head. “I'm sorry. Do you love him? Aaron?”  


She walked away and set the pen and notepad on the desk, making Greta exclaim in alarm again, seeing the objects appear out of what seemed like nowhere. She left the room, hugging herself.  


“I'll be in touch!” Malcolm called after her.  


At the doorway, she paused and nodded back to him before leaving.  


“So, wait,” Greta said, holding up her hands. “Hold on. You can see ghosts?!”  


“Sort of. It's not perfect as you just witnessed.” Malcolm leaned against the desk and folded his arms. “I've only ever been able to see them in mirrors or their outline in the dark. I hear a little but not enough to actually make out what they're saying. It's a bit like static on the radio.”  


Greta could only gape at him. “And you've always been able to do this?”  


“Yes. Basically my whole life.” Malcolm looked down at the notepad on the desk. “My whole family can. I have the gift the weakest, though.”  


“And one of them can help Penelope?” Greta asked.  


“I hope so,” Malcolm said. “The strongest is my nan. She does her best to ignore all of this, though. I'll have to work hard to convince her to help. Hence why I said it would take time.” He let out a long breath. “Want to get back to billiards?”  


“No.”  


He laughed humorlessly. “Yeah. Me neither.”

~*~

No one had checked in on Brahms. The thought made Penny angry all over again. How dare Greta just leave him to rot? Sure, Greta had her own problems and issues but she couldn't knock on his door once to at least ask him how he was doing? Maybe suggest taking a walk? She thought of his face, the way it lit up when she laughed at something he said or when she slipped and called him “sweetie.”  


_Let's face it, Pen, you're not mad at Greta here._   


Rubbing at her forehead, Penny decided it had been long enough. Time to go see Brahms. She stomped out of the house and across the grounds to the cottage. As she went, she became aware of loud music. It sounded like Lou Reed.  


Coming in through the door, she was shocked at how dark the cottage was. All the curtains were closed tightly so no sliver of sunshine had any hope of coming through. Sadness seemed to hang in the air as one song ended and another one started.  


_She's my best friend_   
_Certainly not your average girl_   
_Yeah she's my best friend_   
_She understands me when I'm feeling_   
_Down, down, down, down, down down_   
_You know it sure hurts to be that way_   
_Down down down down down_   
_You know it sure hurts to know that you're that kind of fella_   


Coming into the room, Penny saw that Brahms was laying on the couch, one arm slung over his head, the other draped over the side and resting on the floor. He stared up at the ceiling, his face utterly miserable.  


Unable to take it, Penny stepped forward and cut Lou Reed off in the middle of talking about Mulberry Jane. Brahms bolted upright and stared in her direction, gasping.  


“Hi,” Penny said. She went over to the window and opened the curtains, ignoring his hiss of pain as the sunlight hurt his eyes. “What's going on?”  


He had his arm up over his eyes and said crossly, “I'm going blind is what. Shut the curtains!”  


“You've moped in the dark long enough.” Penny came back over and knelt on the floor in front of him. “Brahms, it's not like I left you at the altar. Isn't this reaction a little over the top?”  


Brahms dropped his arm and stared at her in disbelief. His eyes were bloodshot and a little wild. His hair was in disarray, looking just as bad as when she'd first met him. It was safe to assume he hadn't been bathing all week, based on its greasy looking appearance.  


“Over the top?” he boomed. “I have no one for over twenty years and then you come along. You make my life better, you make me actually start thinking that maybe I could be truly happy, I fall in love with you and you walk right out the door! Taking all that hope and joy with you.”  


She sighed. “Brahms...”  


“And it's been a week, Penny, and guess what? I still love you. I love you so much it fucking _hurts_. I've been by myself all this time and who comes along to finally check in on me? Certainly not the woman I was after in the first place. It's you. Now I know I fell in love with the right woman because you're the only one who cares! My parents haven't even called to check in with me and it's been how long since they left? A month and a half?” His face crumbled. “Please don't leave me again, Penny. Please.”  


“Brahms...” she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his. “Shhh. I'm here now.”  


“Are you going to stay?” he asked, his voice breaking.  


“I can't.” When he let out a sob, she pressed a hand to his cheek, not breaking their contact. “Sweetheart, I can't. We aren't healthy. _This_ isn't healthy, this wallowing. But I'm not going to stay away entirely. I'll come over every day if you want.”  


“What's so great over there, anyway?” Brahms asked sulkily.  


She pulled back to look into his eyes, feeling troubled. “We can talk about that later. For now, I want you to go upstairs and take a shower. Then we're going to air this place out and you're going to eat something. Okay?” He didn't answer. “I'll trim your beard, too.”  


“I like when you trim my beard,” he said in the same sulky tone.  


Penny just barely kept herself from smiling. “Go on, then. I'll take care of everything down here.”  


Brahms rose to his feet and stood there shakily. “Why did you come back?”  


“I heard Greta and Malcolm talking about you. They hadn't seen you in days. I was worried.” When he continued to stare at her she said quietly, “And I missed you.”  


He nodded and then went upstairs. Penny got to her feet and started opening all the windows and the front door to get some fresh air circulating. Then she went into the kitchen and saw that most of the food he'd bought had been untouched. The vegetables looked a little sad so she chopped them up and started making a soup.  


When Brahms returned cleaned, hair brushed, and with fresh clothing on, everything was ready and Penny was spreading butter on a slice of bread for him.  


“Here you go,” she said gently. “Sit down.” She leaned against the counter and watched him eat. His shoulders were hunched and he wasn't looking at her. Great. “So,” she said and cleared her throat.  


Brahms looked up at her and his eyes didn't look nearly as wild. “So?”  


“When I was up at the house... it turns out Malcolm can see me.”  


Brahms dropped his spoon with a loud clatter. “What?!”  


“Only in mirrors! He's apparently seen me over here before. Also in the mirror. It was during our ELO night.” She watched Brahms scowl. “We talked a bit and it turns out he knows someone who can help me. So I can move on.”  


His nostrils flared. “Move on. So you can leave me. And not just for a week this time. For good.”  


“We both know that I wasn't going to be able to stay!” Penny exclaimed. “This always had an expiration date! But look, I've helped you! You're out of the walls, you're earning a living, and you can be around other people without murdering anyone! I've done my part and now it's time to go.”  


“Is it?” Brahms demanded. “Then why do you need Malcolm? Shouldn't _they_ just take you away?”  


Penny groaned. “I don't know how it works, Brahms! I've told you that.”  


“Why did you come back?” he growled. “Why didn't you just stay away?”  


She pressed a hand to her forehead. “I told you. I was worried and I wanted to check in--”  


“No!” He slammed his hand on the table. “Don't you think it's pretty cruel of you to come back like this only to disappear forever? You're not that mean, Penny. So why are you here? Why did you come see me when you knew this was only going to break my heart? Tell me!”  


“Because I love you too!” Penny screamed. She kicked a chair across the room. “I wanted to see you one last time! I'm here because I'm selfish! Okay? Are you happy? Are you fucking happy now, Brahms?”  


He quickly shot out of his seat and hurried to her, tugging her into his arms as she struggled to cry but couldn't. Damn her limitations in this realm. He wrapped her up tightly and murmured, “Shhh, Pen. Shhh.”  


When she'd settled down a little, Brahms drew back and lifted her chin with one finger so she could look into his eyes. “I'm going upstairs and I'm going to sleep. I want you to join me. Okay?”  


She knew she shouldn't. She knew what was going to happen if she did what he asked. But looking up into his eyes, knowing he'd been such a wreck without her, knowing she'd been a wreck without _him_...  


“Okay,” she whispered.  


He smiled. “Okay, he whispered back. Reluctantly, he let her go and rushed from the room. She could hear him running up the stairs in his excitement and his bedroom door fly open.  


“What am I even doing,” Penny whispered, closing her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "She's My Best Friend" by Lou Reed


	17. Chapter 17

This looked like the same hotel room in Cornwall but she was alone, standing in the middle of the room. The bed was unmade but empty. She opened her mouth, ready to call out for Brahms but a flicker of movement caught her eye. The French doors leading out to the balcony were open, the ocean breeze blowing the billowy white curtains. Penny glanced down at herself and saw she was in a white sundress. A step up from the flimsy nightie, at least. Confident that she was dressed decently, Penny went through the doors.  


Brahms stood at the balcony's railing, elbows resting on the surface so his hands dangled. He was staring off at the empty beach and didn't notice her approach.  


“Hi,” she said.  


He didn't turn. “I was wondering when you were going to get here. If you were going to get here.”  


“I had to wait until you were asleep. I tried too soon and kind of thunked you in the head. Sorry about that, by the way.” She went to stand at his side, looking him over. He was dressed in a white button up shirt that was undone to the fourth button, exposing his shocking amount of chest hair. His trousers were also white and fitted him a little loosely. The look suited him.  


“It's all right. I deserve worse.” He finally looked over at her and his expression softened. “You look lovely.”  


Penny shrugged. “You picked it out.”  


He frowned slightly. “I don't think I did. Not consciously at least.” He reached over and tucked her hair behind her ear. “And I didn't just mean your dress, you know.”  


“I know,” she whispered. Her eyes slid shut as he gently coasted the backs of his fingers down her arm, giving her the shivers. “Brahms, why did you bring us here?”  


“To my dream?” He tilted his head. “I think you know--”  


“No, I meant--” She cleared her throat. “Why here? Why this place, specifically? Before, you seemed to stay closer to home. Why aren't we back at our cottage?”  


He smiled slightly at the _our_ in her sentence but then his expression went serious again. “I chose this place because when I came here as a boy, the ocean felt new. I know that it's actually old but the waves never pass over the sand the same way. Sometimes they wash up debris and sometimes they don't. Every wave is different. When I came here, I got to feel different, too. I met some lads on the beach and we played until sunset, my aunt Millie watching me. My mother was furious; she didn't like me playing with other children and she hated how sandy and dirty I'd gotten. Before she saw me, though, I felt like someone else. Someone better than the quiet lad at the manor who never quite fit in. The children I met didn't care where I'd come from and included me in their games. It was the most fun I ever had. Until I met you. Meeting you felt like a new beginning. So I brought you here, where good things should have the chance to begin.”  


Penny's eyes filled with tears. “But Brahms, it's not real.”  


He took her hand and placed it over his heart. “Can you feel this?” When she sniffled and nodded he continued, “This is real. We may not be in the actual Cornwall at the same exact hotel I stayed at in 1990, but it's somewhere real enough that we're experiencing. My feelings for you are real, Pen. You were right earlier that we come with an expiration date but that doesn't mean you never get to enjoy the thing that expires. It just means you use it until that date comes. I say that we act on our feelings and worry about the expiration later.” He clasped her hand to his chest with both hands now. “I never imagined I could feel this way. All of my fantasies about women were... crude at best. I didn't know what love or friendship could be until you showed me. Oh, Penny, please. Please don't fight this.”  


“It's just...” Her tears spilled. “I've loved and lost so many times that my heart feels so _tired_. I don't want to go through all of that again.”  


Brahms's smile was both sweet and sad. “It's too late, though. You already love me.”  


Stepping closer to him, she rested her head on his chest. When he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her crown, she murmured, “Yeah, I do.”  


“And when did that happen, eh?” he whispered into her hair.  


“No idea.” She laughed. “It came up on me suddenly. I didn't know I felt it until I was yelling it at you.”  


He released her hand and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I think it sneaked up on me as well. I realized I loved you when we were driving to town. It's why I suddenly drove us off the road.” His voice lowered to his warm honey register when he said, “But I think it started when I saw you pinch your lip the first time.”  


She looked baffled. “When I what?”  


“When you do this.” He released her and pinched his lip between his thumb and forefinger. “Good lord, it drives me mad.”  


“'Drives you mad'?” she repeated him, still looking confused. “Is that a good thing?”  


“Oh, yes.” He grasped her waist again, pulling her close. “It's a very, very good thing.”  


Laughing, she laced her arms around his neck. “You're so weird.”  


“So I've been told.”  


Penny laughed again then raised her lips to his, kissing him softly at first. He initially fell still but when she started to deepen their kiss, his hands began to move along her hips, smoothing up and down as her tongue flirted with his. It was sweet and playful until his wandering hands somehow got under her dress and caressed her bare ass. Then the kiss got hotter, Penny suckling his tongue as she whimpered and then did a little hop up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He caught her, hand splayed across her ass and started to walk them back into the hotel room. He didn't bother closing the door; no one would hear them. This place was theirs.

~*~

Brahms got them across the room and carefully lowered Penny to the bed, unable to break their kiss for a moment. Her hands were working on the remaining buttons on his shirt so he burrowed his hands under her and fumbled at the back of her dress for the zip. Mercifully, he found it and the zipper slid down smoothly so that by the time she'd gotten his shirt entirely undone, he had her half out of the dress, breasts exposed.  


He broke the kiss to suck one of her soft pink nipples into his mouth. She'd enjoyed that so much the last time he'd done it. Sure enough, she clenched both hands in his hair and cried out harshly. He teased the bud with his tongue and experimentally slipped a hand under her dress. His fingers caressed hot, bare flesh and he went still when he felt how wet she was.  


“Ohhh, don't stop.” Penny's hips bucked. “Mmm, you're doing all my favorite thiiings...”  


“I want to see you,” he growled. “Show me.”  


Wide-eyed, Penny pushed the dress off her hips and down her legs. Brahms looked her over hungrily, his gaze landing on to the pink flesh between her legs, swollen and glistening with moisture. He shrugged out of his shirt and then quickly dove between her legs, his tongue separating her folds to lap at her.  


Panting, Penny gripped his hair again and ground herself against his tongue. “How are you-- how are you so good at this...?”  


He paused to send a smoldering look up at her that set her trembling. “Dream place. I just know what to do. No one's fumbling and awkward in dreams, right?”  


“No, that's true, I-- oh god!” He'd started licking right where she'd needed his tongue most and her thighs clamped his head in place. Even if he'd wanted to leave her, he couldn't. “Unh!”  


Brahms continued licking her and then slid two fingers inside of her. That was all it took. Penny wailed and he felt her clamping down around his fingers, more fluid gushing out and onto his tongue. He continued to lick until her hips stopped bucking and then he backed off. He watched her as she panted, her face and chest flushed pink from her orgasm. Hungrily, he stared at how red her lips had gotten and his hands fell to his trousers which slipped off easily. He wore nothing underneath and was able to panther crawl to Penny and nestle between her legs.  


Penny's smile was so sexy and satisfied as she wrapped her arms and legs around him. “Mmm, I'm not sure how much of that is dream place and how much of it is you being a natural at this.”  


“I like the idea that I'm just naturally good at pleasing you,” Brahms said, making her giggle. She stroked the hair on the back of his head softly and searched his eyes for something. “What is it? What are you thinking?”  


“Are you sure you want your first to be me?” she asked, softly.  


“Why shouldn't it be you?” Brahms asked. “I love you. You love me. Feels like your pussy loves me, too.”  


“She does,” Penny agreed, laughing again. “ I think I meant are you sure you want your first time to be like this?”  


Brahms gave her a look. “If you're going to start up about this not being real again...”  


“Well! It... this isn't quite like the real thing.” Penny bit her lip. “Remember the disappointing birthday cake?”  


His stomach dropped. “Please tell me this isn't like that dreadful cake.”  


“No! No, it's not!” She shook her head urgently. “Not at all! I only meant that this isn't quite like the real thing. It's way better than the cake, though. I mean, you've woken up from sex dreams feeling all happy and good, right?”  


“Right,” he agreed.  


“Well, sex in the real world is different. I hope you get to find that out some day.” She suddenly looked sad.  


“Pen.” He kissed her softly. “I really need to be inside of you.”  


“What a coincidence,” she purred, rubbing against him. “I really need you inside of me.”  


He lined his cock up at her entrance and glided smoothly inside. Penny mewled and clutched his back while he went still, gasping. This felt hotter, wetter, and tighter than anything he'd tried to simulate with his hand. He couldn't go back to jerking off after this. Not after feeling Penny. And somehow real world sex was supposed to be better than this? If it was, he kind of hoped he never experienced it; it would surely kill him.  


Penny's head thrashed on the pillow. “Oh, please, sweetie, please...”  


“Oh,” he said and started to slowly thrust. He watched in fascination as Penny gradually turned red again, the color seeping over her cheeks and down her neck to spread across her chest. He didn't stop thrusting as he lowered his head to her neck and found her special spot with his lips and tongue.  


“Brahms!” Her pussy clenched him so tightly he grit his teeth. He was so close to finishing, he just needed... “Oh god, you're so good, I love you so much!”  


His eyes nearly crossed with the force of his orgasm, roaring as he came deep inside of her. Though they'd both finished, he continued to thrust against her until his strength gave out and he lowered himself to the bed beside her.  


“Mmm.” Penny's eyes were closed but they slowly fluttered open. Her eyes had turned a darker blue, almost like the ocean outside. “Hi.”  


He huffed out a laugh. “Hi.”  


She closed her eyes again. “I think I'm gonna fall asleep...”  


Brahms scooted closer to her and pulled her into his arms, nestling her head on his chest. “If you do that, how can we tell whose dream we're in?”  


She pressed a kiss over his heart. “Shhh.”  


“Okay,” he whispered back, cuddling her as she drifted to sleep. He watched her breathing softly and stroked her hair. He couldn't imagine loving anyone as much as he did her right now in this moment.  


Then the room around him started to fade, Penny no longer in his arms.  


“Wait,” he said but they were leaving Cornwall and their lovely little room far behind.

~*~

In the blink of an eye, he was in a cozy, cluttered kitchen. The counter behind him was right at eye-level so he was child-sized. He glanced down at himself and saw he was in a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt and blue jeans, two items of clothing he'd never owned in his life. If his mother had seen him, she would have had a heart attack.  


Someone softly humming to his left caught his attention. A woman with long black hair stood at the sink, rinsing off a dish. She turned her face and he saw she was beautiful with thick dark eyebrows, an elfin nose that turned up at the end, and several hundred freckles. She reminded him of someone...  


“Penelope,” she suddenly said, looking over her shoulder.  


At the table sat a little blonde girl. Penny. She was smaller than she'd been in his birthday party dream, with much longer hair that had been neatly styled into two ponytails. Tiny Penny was drawing something, so caught up in her work that she didn't seem to have heard the woman speaking to her.  


The woman's smile was tender as she placed the dish in a rack and then dried her hands on a towel. She walked over to the table and knelt next to Penny's chair. “Can you show me what you're drawing?”  


“It's a monkey,” Penny said. She set her crayon down and pointed at the paper. “He's a fireman. See? He's saving this family of turkeys from a house fire.”  


“You're so creative.” The woman softly kissed Penny's cheek. “We'll put it on the fridge with all the others.”  


Brahms glanced at the refrigerator and did a double take. Bloody hell, the whole thing was simply covered in drawings, all held in place with what had to be every single magnet in the world.  


“You'll have to make lots more for us when we're away,” the woman said, her voice becoming false as she tried to sound cheerful.  


Penny looked up at her and her bottom lip quivered. “But I don't _want_ you to go!”  


“Penelope,” the woman said sternly. “We've discussed this. Daddy and I are going on a trip, just the two of us. It's what married people do when they want to celebrate their anniversary. Do you remember what an anniversary is?”  


“Yes,” Penny said, not looking thrilled with this vocabulary reminder.  


“Well, then you know it's very important to us.”  


“I'm important, too!” Penny's face fell and she started to weep.  


Her mother sighed and dropped her head on the table. Brahms covered his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing out loud. Penny had grown up to be almost exactly like this woman.  


“Hey, hey, hey, what's all this?” A man cruised into the room, smiling. He patted Penny's mother on the shoulder with an _I got this_ air about him and when she stood up and moved out of the way, he pulled up the chair next to Penny. “Why the waterworks, Pen-uh-lope?” He pronounced Penelope so it sounded like cantaloupe, making Brahms smile. It was clear this man was Penny's father; he had the same honey gold hair which hung to his shoulders and the thick glasses Penny had worn in life. He radiated friendliness and confidence as he leaned close to his little daughter.  


“I want to come with you on the anniversary!” Penny sobbed.  


Her father's expression turned serious and he rested his cheek on her chair. “Pen-uh-lope, you know you have to stay here. Who's gonna look after Grandma if you come with us? Huh? That wouldn't be nice to leave her here. She was looking forward to a nice visit with you.”  


Penny sniffled. “She was?”  


“Yeah. She told me she was going to write some stories and she wanted you to illustrate them. Buuut if you're gonna be a no-fun cry pants and try to butt into the anniversary...” He sat back and held up his hands in defeat. “Then I guess she's gonna have to be disappointed.”  


“I'm not a no-fun cry pants,” Penny said, injured. She sniffled and wiped at her face to try to hide evidence of her tears.  


His smile was sweet as he leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Nah, I didn't think you were. You're my Pen-uh-lope and I love you love you love you.” With each iteration of love, he tickled her tummy, making her giggle. Then he took a look at her drawing, “Wow, is that a monkey fireman?”  


“Yeah. Mommy says it's going on the fridge.”  


He looked at the appliance in question and cocked an eyebrow. “I think we're at max capacity there, kiddo.”  


Penny's mother swooped in and plucked up the drawing. “There's always room.” She went to the fridge, re-arranged a few things and then stood back, gesturing to the new drawing on display. “Ta dah!”  


“Yay!” Penny ran over to her mother and threw her arms around her. “You always find room.”  


“That's because I'm magic,” she said cheerfully, running a hand over Penny's head. “Now go upstairs and wash your face, okay?”  


“Okay!” Penny dashed from the room. Once she was out of view, her mother sighed and looked to her husband.  


“Crisis averted,” he said, smiling brightly.  


“Aaron,” the woman said, startling Brahms. Aaron? Penny had given him her father's name? “I really suck at this.”  


“Suck at what?” he asked. He was picking up Penny's crayons and putting them back in the box.  


“This whole parenting thing.” She dropped down in the chair across from Aaron and rested her chin in her hand. “I always seem to be too harsh and mean and make her cry. Whenever she challenges me, it pisses me off and I overreact. Then you get to swoop in and save the day.”  


Aaron reached out and grasped her hand. “Cecelia,” he said gently. “She loves you. You're doing a good job. I mean, you just told her you had magical powers and she didn't even question you because she knows it's true. It's okay.”  


“I hope so.” Cecelia chewed her lip and said softly, “I kind of want her to come along, you know. I'm going to miss her so much.”  


“She'll be here when we get back.” Aaron gave her hand a squeeze and went back to picking up crayons. “And she'll have so many more drawings we'll have to start putting them up inside the damn fridge.”  


The parents laughed together.  


“I had forty-two pictures for them.” Brahms turned and Penny stood in the doorway, eyes on her young parents who were still gathering crayons together and scooping together stacks of paper. “They never got to see them, though.”  


Brahms joined her where she stood. “Why?” he asked.  


The look in Penny's eyes was old, older than a five year old should ever look. “On their way home, there was this logging truck on the freeway. The driver didn't secure the load properly and one of the logs fell off. It hit their car. Totally flattened it. They died instantly.” Her eyes swam with tears and she looked at Brahms. “If I'd come along, it might not have happened.”  


“How do you figure?” Brahms asked, frowning in confusion. “You could have died with them.”  


“I was a little kid. At some point I could have bitched and moaned about having to potty and they would have pulled over at some rest stop so I could go and we would have missed that stupid truck entirely.” Penny's tears spilled down her cheeks. “I had all these fantasies about how I could go back and stop it from happening. Like here, if I'd thrown a bigger tantrum, maybe they'd have given in and stayed home.”  


Brahms looked back at her parents, who were holding hands across the table and talking, leaning towards each other with shining eyes. “I don't know, Pen. They really seem like they wanted their alone time.”  


“Neither of them was even thirty yet,” she whispered. “God, Brahms. It's all so fucking unfair.”  


“I know.” He stepped toward her and put his arm around her. “I'm so sorry.”  


She drew in a shaky breath and turned into him, hugging him tightly. “I love you, you know. It's why I wanted you to see this. Those two are the people I loved the most in the world and they were taken away from me. I don't want you to hurt the way that I did. The way I still do.”  


“You mean when you move on?” Brahms pressed his face into her neck. “Pen, even if we never had this time together here, I was going to be devastated when you left. The damage is done; I already love you.”  


She sighed. “I guess you're right.”  


When he lifted his head, they were no longer in the Beech family kitchen. They were seated on the sofa in their cottage, back to being adults. He lightly stroked Penny's hair as she still held him tightly. Then she left a soft kiss on his cheek and drew back.  


“Get some sleep, Brahms,” she whispered. “I'll see you in the morning.”  


He groaned. “Don't go.”  


“I have to.” Penny smiled. “You aren't really sleeping when you're here with me, so you aren't actually getting any rest. If I leave now, you can get a few hours in. It's like Dumbledore said, 'It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.'”  


“Who?” Brahms asked, frowning.  


Penny giggled and gave him a soft, clinging kiss before drawing back. “Good night, sweetheart.”  


“Good night, Pen.”  


When she slipped out the front door, giving him a quick smile on the way out, the room went dark and Brahms drifted into true sleep, feeling good for the first time in ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling


	18. Chapter 18

“Aaron!” Greta looked up from her bowl of yogurt and granola as the kitchen door opened. She watched in amazement as a beaming Aaron entered the house and went to the cupboard to pull down a box of cereal.  


“Good morning,” he said, grabbing a bowl as well.  


“Feeling better?” Greta asked, feeling like Captain Obvious.  


He didn't remark on that and just smiled over at her. “I am, thanks. How have things been around here? Anything broken?”  


“Nope, everything's fine.” Greta stirred her granola and yogurt together. “Um, we met Penelope. You call her Regan.”  


“Yes, she told me about that.” He poured the cereal into a bowl and then put the box away, heading over to the refrigerator. “Isn't she wonderful?”  


“I didn't see her,” Greta said. “So I guess you guys talked?”  


Aaron took out the pitcher of milk and poured a bit into his bowl. “We did. She still feels like our being together would be a bad idea, but she loves me back.”  


“How's that gonna work?” Greta asked. “She's dead and you're...not.”  


He sighed as he put the milk away. “I don't know. But I'd rather cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, I just want to be around her. She's really funny, did you get to see how funny she is?”  


“I didn't see her at all,” Greta said. “Malcolm did. In the mirror.”  


“Ah. Right. Sorry.” He got a spoon out of the drawer and then sat down at the table with her. “She's got great hair. Really long and thick. She told me she's broken three combs in it.”  


Greta started to smile. “Wow, that's thick, all right.”  


“And she has this laugh... it's a great laugh. It makes you want to start laughing with her. She's always been able to make me laugh, even when she's taking the piss out of me.” Aaron got dreamy-eyed as he spoke. “She's out walking the grounds right now. She loves the outdoors. Later, she'll tell me what I need to work on. She can be a bit bossy but I like being bossed by her.”  


She couldn't believe how chatty he was being. These few minutes he'd said more than all the previous days combined. It was kind of cute, really. She felt a touch of envy for Penelope-Regan to have someone literally gushing over her but she was able to shake it off. Let the poor dead woman have her admirer without someone begrudging her a bit of happiness.  


“Anyway, I probably won't be back at the house the rest of the day. I just wanted to check in since I've been gone so long.” He was shoveling his cereal into his face, clearly eager to be on his way.  


“I'm glad to see you're doing so well,” Greta said sincerely.  


He paused and smiled at her. “Thank you. I know we don't know each other very well but I rather like you.”  


Touched, she smiled back at him. “I like you too, Aaron.”  


Finishing off his cereal, he got up and went to the sink to quickly wash his bowl and spoon. “Well, I'd best be off. I'll see you, Greta.”  


“See ya,” she said as he practically bolted out the door. She laughed quietly at his eagerness and then finished her own breakfast.  


After she cleaned up, she went to the library and sat down with the Sarah Waters book she'd found. She liked the story and everything but she'd never been a really big reader. She was about halfway thorough it and was really enjoying it, wanting to make it last since there was nothing else here that interested her.  


An hour later, someone was knocking on the front door. Greta set the book aside, frowning. Everyone she knew seemed to let themselves in. Who could this be? Suddenly nervous, Greta reluctantly got up and headed for the door. It wouldn't be a salesman or anything this far out of the way. The person knocked again and Greta walked a little quicker calling, “Coming!”  


She opened the door and there on the porch stood one of the handsomest men she'd ever seen. He looked like he could play a superhero in a Hollywood film, except he had a scruffy looking beard and bags under his eyes.  


“Hi,” he said, his voice tight. “My name's Chris Everly. Are the Heelshires in?”  


“No, they aren't,” Greta said. “I'm only the nanny.”  


“Nanny,” Chris repeated and snorted disdainfully. “They're still pulling people into their crazy shit?”  


“I'm... sorry, was there something I could help you with?” Greta asked, subtly taking a step back and covering more of her body with the door.  


He let out a shaky breath and smoothed a hand over his rumpled hair. “Yeah, actually, there is. Could you get a hold of them and tell them I refuse to leave their fucking property until I find out what really happened to my fiancee? I'd appreciate it.”  


“O-okay,” Greta said, eyes widening.  


Chris nodded once. “Thanks.” He retreated down the steps and across the yard to where his car was parked. He leaned against it and glared up at the house, arms folded.  


Greta closed and locked the door, then hurried to the phone to call Malcolm.

~*~

Penny and Brahms were measuring a broken wooden fence, figuring out how much lumber they'd need to order. Based on their calculations, it was quite a lot of lumber and it wouldn't be cheap.  


“Why don't I just chop down a tree and use the wood from that?” Brahms asked. “It would be free.”  


Penny laughed. “Dude, come on. You don't know how to carve wood to make it look all nice like the rest of the fence.”  


“I could learn!”  


She laughed some more and Brahms laughed along with her. “Maybe we could learn how to whittle together. It could be fun in an old man on a porch kind of way...”  


“There's an old man on a porch kind of fun?” Brahms asked, looking at her like she was insane.  


Shrugging, Penny didn't look at him as she said, “Anything could be fun as long as you were there.”  


He smiled at her and said in a low voice, “Why don't I lay down under a tree somewhere and take a nap? What do you think, Pen?”  


Penny gave him a quick smile then looked up at the sky. “Not out here. It looks like it's going to pour any minute. Maybe we should get back to the cottage.”  


They sky was indeed a dark, livid gray. A wind blew suddenly, as if it were seconding Penny's suggestion and was trying to get them to move along. Brahms pushed a button on his tape measure to get everything wound up inside the apparatus again, then took Penny's hand in his.  


“I used to have fantasies about getting trapped in the middle of a storm,” Penny said conversationally. “Usually about whatever boy I liked at the time. The rain would pour down on us and we'd go running until we found a shack. Then we'd huddle together for warmth and...”  


“Get warm?” Brahms teased with an innocent look on his face.  


Penny giggled, squeezing his hand. “Right. Exactly.”

~*~

Greta pounded on the door again. “Aaron!” She stepped back and looked up at the cottage. No sign of movement. She considered letting herself inside but decided against it. He'd mentioned earlier that he'd be doing work on the grounds today but neglected to mention where exactly he'd be. A cold wind suddenly blew her hair around her and Greta looked up at the sky. The clouds were getting darker, nearly black with the coming storm. This was no weather to go traipsing over hill and dale trying to find someone.  


She dashed back to the house just as Malcolm's car pulled up. He got out and looked over at Chris Everly's car, where Chris himself still sat behind the wheel. Greta folded her arms and shivered as Malcolm walked over to the driver's side window and knocked on the glass.  


When Chris rolled down the window, Malcolm said, “Hi, mate. I understand you're looking for the Heelshires?”  


“I am. Are you the butler?” Chris asked.  


Malcolm's smile was strained. “I'm an old family friend. Why don't you come inside and we'll talk?”  


Chris looked at him distrustfully and Malcolm gentled his smile, showing his dimples. He held out a hand. “I'm Malcolm, by the way.”  


Slowly, Chris took his hand and shook it. “Chris.”  


“Come inside, Chris. The weather looks nasty.”  


They both looked up as a low growl of thunder warned them to get inside.  


Chris popped open his door. “Right. Sounds good.”

~*~

They were halfway to the cottage when the skies opened up and poured ice cold rain down on them. Brahms let out a strangled cry, all that cold wet of course going right down his neck and under his clothes. He started running faster and looked over at Penny. She kept pace with him perfectly, the rain not touching her. It was a little spooky, if he was being honest. But she gave him an encouraging smile and he could never be afraid of her, not really. Not his Pen.  


He was soaked to the skin when they finally reached the cottage. Shivering, he switched on a light and Penny started to unbutton his shirt.  


“Oh,” he said softly. “What's this?”  


She gave him a look. “Horndog. You need to get out of your wet clothes. You must be freezing.”  


He chattered his teeth and was only being a little dramatic. “I am.”  


“Well, I'm going to get you out of these and then toss them in the dryer. And you're going to go upstairs and take a hot shower while I make you some tea.” She slipped his drenched flannel shirt off his shoulders and stared at his undershirt which clung to him like a second skin. “You have really nice chest hair, just so you know.”  


“And you have a really nice chest,” Brahms retorted.  


“Grandma used to get fed up going dress shopping with me when I was a teenager,” Penny said, giggling. “She said I was 'too busty' like I could help it. It made finding things that fit really difficult. If something fit my chest it was too baggy at the waist or if it fit the waist it was too tight on my hips. Ugh. Such a nightmare. She started getting my dresses custom made to spare us the grief of shopping off the rack.” She had knelt at his feet and was untying his laces, though they were so soaked it made things pretty difficult. She looked up at Brahms and he was smiling down at her. “What?”  


“I can take care of this myself, Pen.” He was unbuttoning his jeans as he spoke and Penny swallowed.  


“Sorry, I wasn't--”  


“It's okay.”  


“Your boots are kind of--”  


“I know.”  


Penny sighed and stood up. “Okay, no more fussing. I'll put the tea on at least.”  


“Penny?”  


She looked up at him. “Hmm?”  


“I love you.”  


Her eyes sparkled back. “Love you, too.”

~*~

“Yeah, that's the story I was fed but I don't buy it.” Chris hadn't touched his cup of tea and glared at Malcolm as the three of them sat around the kitchen table. “You didn't know Pen.”  


Malcolm and Greta exchanged a look. “Well, no, we didn't but accidents happen.”  


“Not to Penny they don't!” Chris slapped his hand on the table, making Greta flinch. “She was sensible to a fault. No way would she get up in the middle of the night and not turn on a god damned light before wandering around. She didn't fall down the stairs. Someone pushed her. I _know_ it. It's the only thing that makes sense.”  


“Does it?” Malcolm asked gently. “Why on earth would the Heelshires want to push anyone down the stairs? What would they stand to gain?”  


“Maybe that dirty old man made a move on Penny and she turned him down! Then they come out of her room and they're struggling on the stairs and he--” Chris's throat worked with the force of his emotions. “I can't rest until I know what's happened. I spent the last month doing research on this house. A lot of weird shit has happened here. Like their kid mysteriously dying in a fire right after he murdered someone. These people have been doing whatever they want for way too long and it ends here with Penny. It fucking _stops_.”  


Greta watched his grief-stricken face thoughtfully and said, “What would it take to convince you that it was just an accident?”  


He laughed bitterly, pressing his face into his hands. “God, I don't know. Penny coming back and telling me herself. That would convince me.”  


“And what if we could make that happen?”  


“Greta,” Malcolm warned.  


Chris lowered his hands slowly. “What the hell are you talking about?”  


Greta drew in a deep breath. “What if Penny never left? What if she's in this house right now and you can talk to her?”  


“You're out of your god damned mind,” Chris said, his voice low.  


Malcolm rubbed his forehead tiredly, giving in to what was now inevitable. “Unfortunately, she really isn't.”

~*~

Warm and clean, Brahms sat down in the lounge with his cup of tea. Penny was cozily ensconced on the sofa with her sketchbook, scratching away busily. He still wanted to go upstairs but inspiration had struck her thanks to the storm so Brahms picked up Amelie's Memory Garden and cracked it open. The pages were cream colored and dappled gold. The dedication page was a lovely burgundy color where in cursive gold font it said: “To Aaron and Cecelia Beech.”  


Heart heavy, Brahms turned the page and admired the illustration. A fairy tale-like cottage sat in the middle of a forest, surrounded by flowers. It was so detailed, he was able to pick out a little brown rabbit tucked under a few ferns which were themselves covered in dew.  


“Not so long ago, in a village not so far away, lived a little girl named Amelie. She lived with her parents in a pretty little house in the forest. Though they didn't have much money and didn't have luxuries, they were very happy.”  


He turned the page to see Amelie, a little girl with red hair that went down to her waist, holding hands with her parents as the three of them danced in a little sitting room. Amelie's mother had identical long red hair and her father was a tall man with curly blond hair. The three of them were laughing in the illustration as a bemused kitten sat on top of a packed bookcase, watching their dance. Books were all over the room and Brahms was able to tilt the book this way and that to read the titles on the spines if he squinted hard enough. They were titles he'd never heard of like 'The Acrobat and the Pumpkin King' and 'Once Upon a Rose.”  


“Every morning began with dancing so Amelie and her parents could begin their daily chores and responsibilities with a smile. Her father and mother worked in the village as actors in the local theater and Amelie attended school every day in the little school house. At the end of each day, they would come home together and make a delicious supper.”  


He turned the page and saw Amelie sitting at a desk in an empty school house, looking frightened. In the background, the chalkboard had simple sums written on the board and a few little words like CAT and DOG. The text chillingly said, “One day, Amelie's parents didn't come for her.”  


The next few pages explained that there had been a fire in the theater and her parents hadn't made it out. The school teacher takes Amelie home with her, a sweet-faced round woman who meant well but didn't seem to say the right things to comfort the little girl.  


Then one day, Amelie's Aunt Gertrude takes Amelie away to live with her in the city. They take a street car to Aunt Gertrude's home and Amelie holds a little suitcase on her lap. She looks just as alone as she had in the empty school house, even on the streetcar full of people. Brahms admired the detail that went into the commuters, old women with tiny lap dogs, men with handlebar mustaches reading newspapers, impatient looking women holding the hands of bored, squirming children.  


At Aunt Gertrude's house, Amelie is given new clothing that's dark and looks stiff and uncomfortable. Her long princess hair is cut to shoulder length because it's “more practical and easier to care for.” And little Amelie is completely miserable. Her aunt isn't unkind but she's much more strict than her parents had been and she's nowhere near as silly.  


One day, Aunt Gertrude takes Amelie to a nearby park and Amelie avoids the other children who jeer at her and call her a snob because they don't understand that she's too sad to play. How can she play and smile when her beloved parents are gone? In tears, she wanders away and finds an uninhabited section of the park, blocked off by a wrought iron gate. It's locked but the chains fall when Amelie touches the bars. Inside is a lush, beautiful garden, and Amelie finds herself in a pretty little gown that she used to wear at home.  


The next illustration was one that Brahms recognized from the wall of Penny's house. Little Amelie bows to the flowers and he recognizes two of their faces as Aaron and Cecelia Beech. He didn't know who the third face was but had his suspicions. The flowers say that they're the guides to the Memory Garden. Every good thing and bad thing that has ever happened is remembered in this garden. Any time Amelie wants to think about her parents, she can come to the Memory Garden and feel everything she wants.  


“You see,” the flowers tell the little girl, “Life goes on around you, even when you're so sad you feel as if your heart will break. The people in your life expect you to go on too and sometimes you feel as if you cannot. They want you to forget your sadness so they don't have to feel uncomfortable or start remembering the things that have made them sad. That's why this garden exists. We hold on to everything so you don't have to. You can live, and eat ice cream, and roller skate and that's all right. It isn't a betrayal to your lovely mama and papa. Sometimes you'll need to feel sad and remember your parents and that's when you'll come here. You can be as sad as you want and no one will try to cheer you up until you want to be cheered up.”  


The garden helps Amelie immediately and she starts making friends with the children in the neighborhood and even convinces Aunt Gertrude to a dance once in awhile. The book ends with Amelie curled up in the flower bed as the flowers smile down at her.  


“I'll never forget my mama and papa. They're always in the garden and in my heart.”  


Brahms closed the book and swallowed. He looked over at Penny and said quietly, “Pen. That was lovely.”  


Penelope looked over and then back down at her sketchbook. “Thanks.”  


“Why don't you...” He cleared his throat. “You don't like the book?”  


Her lips pursed. “No. I really don't.”  


“Why?” Brahms set the book aside and went to kneel next to the sofa. “Penny...”  


“You saw the flowers, right?” Penny said flatly. “Their faces?”  


Brahms nodded. “Right. Your mother and your father and... your grandmother?”  


“Yes.” Penny flipped the page of her sketchbook and started drawing again before her face crumbled and she marked up the page angrily before tossing everything away from her.  


“Whoa!” Brahms held out a hand as if to calm her. “It's okay! You did it to memorialize your family, that's fine! I don't know why you're so--”  


“When I wrote that book, Grandma was still alive!” Penny exclaimed. “It was originally supposed to be only two flowers but I didn't want people thinking they were Amelie's parents reincarnated. I drew a third flower and gave it Grandma's face so my whole family could have a cameo in my book. Right when we were going to publication, Grandma had her stroke. It's like... it's like I cursed her by putting her in it!”  


Brahms said gently, “I don't think you have that kind of power, love.”  


“I know that!” Penny snapped. “Intellectually, I know I didn't kill my grandma by making her a memory garden flower. But in here?” She patted her chest and said brokenly, “It feels like I murdered her.”  


“Oh, Pen.” Brahms reached out and gently touched her cheek. He felt a flare up of rage at not being able to really touch her warmth and soft skin. How could he properly console her when she was just air? But the rage simmered down when Penny's eyes closed and she seemed to be drawing comfort from his meager touch. “I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I don't think your grandmother would be upset with you for putting her in your book. I think she'd be proud. It's beautiful work and she'd want you to enjoy it.”  


“She was proud,” Penny whispered. “Grandma was an author herself. She had a few contacts so I was able to get my foot in the door for a few meetings but she always said that I got the contract based on the strength of my talent.”  


“An author?” Brahms tilted his head. “You never mentioned that before.”  


Penny smiled a little. “Well, it's never really come up, has it? Besides, she never wrote anything I had any interest in reading. She wrote a lot of serious literary fiction like Joyce Carol Oates. I think they had a professional rivalry, come to think of it. Anyway, my grandmother is Morgana Brooks.”  


Brahms sat up straight. “Really? Morgana Brooks?”  


“You've heard of her?” Penny asked dubiously.  


“Yes! She was friends with my aunt Mildred!” When Penny stared at him in shock, he started to laugh. “I'm completely serious! Mildred was a reporter and early in her career she wrote a piece on your grandmother. They became friends and corresponded for years. Your grandmother was actually supposed to visit us once but something came up, I don't remember what.”  


Penny slowly blinked. “We were supposed to come to the UK one summer to promote Grandma's latest book. But Dustin Fisher's mom sent him to school with chicken pox to infect all of us and I got sick. Grandma had to cancel the book tour.”  


Brahms touched her knee. “Well, isn't this a small world.”  


She suddenly smiled at him. “It is, isn't it.”  


They sat quietly together until Brahms murmured, “Should I go take a nap now?”  


A wicked little smile lit up her face. “I wish you would.”  


He leaned forward and with a sexy growl said, “Wish granted.”

~*~

“What if they aren't home?” Greta shouted to be heard over the storm.  


“Where in the hell would they be?” Malcolm asked. “It's pissing rain, Greta!”  


“Well, they could have gotten caught out there somewhere and...” she trailed off.  


“And taken shelter in a convenient little shack?” Malcolm asked. “That sounds like a romantic school girl fantasy.”  


Greta frowned at him. “Hey, I had that fantasy, buddy.”  


He grinned over at her. “It's not a bad one.” His smile dropped as they approached the cottage. He handed the umbrella in his hand over to Greta so he could knock on the door. There was no reply. He sighed loudly. “Greta, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to invade his privacy again. This is too important.”  


“Okay...” she said reluctantly.  


Malcolm opened the door and shouted, “Aaron! Aaron, are you there?”

~*~

They'd kept the inclement weather for their fantasy, where they took shelter in an old lighthouse on the beach. On dusty blankets, they'd peeled their wet clothes off of each other and Penny was in Brahms's lap, riding him as they kissed passionately.  


When Brahms abruptly broke the kiss to suck on her neck, lightning struck right outside the big windows. She panted harshly and purred, “Oh god, I'm so close...”  


“Close to what?” Brahms asked breathlessly.  


Penny started giggling. “I love you.”  


“Love you, too.” He gave her a puzzled smile as she continued to laugh.  


“AARON!”  


Their world shattered and rocked to the side. Gasping, Brahms bolted upright in bed, Penny standing right next to him. After looking to the other to make sure they were all right, they both turned their attention to the the door which stood ajar. They could hear someone walking down the hallway loudly, still calling out for “Aaron.” Malcolm.  


“I'm in here!” Brahms shouted back angrily. “What are you doing in my house?!”  


Malcolm paused outside the door but didn't push it any further open than it already was. “Sorry to wake you,” he said. “But Greta and I need you and Penny up at the house. It's an emergency.”  


Brahms looked over at Penny's stricken face and then scowled. “Found a way to send her to the other side, have you?”  


“No,” Malcolm said tersely. “Please, let's go. We'll explain everything soon.”  


“What could be so important?” Brahms asked, getting up to search for his clothes. His cock was still erect and he ached a little from not finding his release. He went still and all thoughts of getting off vanished at Malcolm's next words.  


“Chris Everly is here. He wants to talk to Penny.”


	19. Chapter 19

Once Brahms threw on some clothes, he and Penny headed back out into the pouring rain. Penny had found an umbrella for him and offered it to him wordlessly at the door. She kept trying to catch his eye but he stared straight ahead, stone faced. It worried her but she said nothing, unsure what exactly she could say.  


When they reached the porch, Brahms paused. “Go in,” he muttered. “I'll be a moment.”  


“I can wait,” Penny said.  


“I said go in,” he all but snarled at her.  


She blinked. “Jesus. Fine.”  


Penny passed through the door, feeling her throat ache with unshed tears. She felt so nervous having to see Chris again and now she didn't even have her friend to help her through it. What did Chris need to see her for, anyway? She'd left everything to him when she'd died so he should be doing pretty well for himself. Everything was straight forward so he wouldn't need her help to find out where the insurance policy was located. And it wasn't as if he missed her, since he'd had a month to come to his stupid senses before she made the trip to the UK. She'd even emailed him right before she left, letting him know she was leaving the country and to contact Emily if he needed anything he'd left at the house they'd once shared together. It had been a last ditch effort on her part to get his attention, to entice him back, but he hadn't even responded.  


The door opened and Brahms came in, the umbrella shut. He looked at her and said, “Well?”  


“They can't see me, genius,” Penny sniped. “You need to announce me.”  


“I hadn't thought of that,” he said and she bit her tongue against a really nasty response. She hated that she'd already regressed back to their first interactions but he was being so weird. She felt so upset and nervous that she didn't think she could take it anymore.  


“Brahms, I'm scared,” Penny whispered.  


He finally looked at her and his face softened, watching her shaking. “Oh, Pen.”  


“Do I have to do this?” she asked. “I don't... I don't want to see him.”  


“You don't have to do anything,” Brahms said reassuringly. “Who the hell does he think he is, coming here and ordering everyone around? I'll go in there and tell him to piss off, okay?”  


Though she still felt awful, the mental image of Brahms sassing Chris made her smile. “Okay.”  


Greta came into the room just then and looked relieved. “Oh, thank god you're here. I thought you'd be coming back with Malcolm but...” She looked back over her shoulder. “This guy's insisting that the Heelshires murdered Penny and he's refusing to leave until he gets a confession. We didn't really know what to do but I figured if we could get Penny to talk to him...?”  


“Oh,” Penny said softly. She looked over at Brahms who'd stiffened. “Um... I guess I should?”  


“What's she saying?” Greta asked, looking to Brahms's left, where Penny wasn't actually standing.  


Brahms cleared his throat. “She'll do it, she's just nervous. He broke their engagement so she isn't all that excited to see him.”  


“Well, you're not alone,” Greta said kindly. “All of us are here and Chris hasn't exactly endeared himself to us. We're on your side.”  


Penny bit her lip and smiled. “Thank you, Greta.”  


“She appreciates that,” Brahms said.  


Greta smiled and then it dropped. “Well, let's get this over with. They're in the game room waiting for us. It has a big mirror so Malcolm can see Penny.”  


The three of them walked to the room in a line, Penny last. Once she crossed the threshold of the game room, she started shaking again. There was Chris, sitting ramrod straight in one of the Heelshire's plush chairs. He looked haggard, with dark circles under his eyes and his beard all shabby and unkempt. His hair was shorter but clearly hadn't been brushed in who knew how long. Meanwhile, Penny was seeing him fresh from sex with a new lover and she felt a tiny hint of smugness. _You broke my heart and tossed me aside, but I'm the one who's flourishing._  


Wait. She shut her eyes in annoyance. _You're dead, Pen. He's got a step up on you in that department._  


“Penny,” Malcolm said, spotting her in the mirror. “I'm glad you could join us. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”  


Penny shook her head and Malcolm went to the desk for the notepad and pencil.  


“She's here?” Chris asked, shooting to his feet. He frowned at Brahms. “Who's this?”  


Greta quickly answered. “This is Aaron. He's a friend of Penny's. He can see and hear her better than Malcolm can, so he can verify everything Penny tells you.”  


Chris looked Brahms up and down. “A friend?”  


Brahms clenched his jaw tightly a moment and then said, “Yes.”  


Malcolm quickly stepped in, holding up the pen and notepad. “Let's begin, shall we?”  


“Wait, what's that for?” Chris asked. “I thought you were gonna talk to Penny?”  


“I can't hear her so she writes on this tablet to me and I read it in the mirror,” Malcolm said.  


Chris laughed in disbelief, a harsh and humorless sound. “Are you out of your-- Let me see that.” When Malcolm handed over the notebook, Chris flipped through it. He found the pages Penny had already written on and read those. His skeptical expression never lifted. “This isn't even her handwriting. She always writes in cursive.”  


“Cursive would be difficult to write in backwards so I can read it,” Malcolm said. Penny was impressed that he managed to sound so patient. In contrast, Brahms looked like he was ready to shake the shit out of Chris.  


Chris handed the notepad back. “Fine. Let's get started.”  


“Right.” Malcolm walked over to the mirror and stood next to Penny. He handed her the notepad and pen and they disappeared from view to everyone else.  


Greta gasped and looked over at Chris who folded his arms. “Yeah, nice sleight of hand.” he said.  


Malcolm didn't comment but looked Penny in the eyes, noting her nervousness. “Penny. We're only going to ask a few questions and then you and Aaron can go home, okay? If you're not comfortable answering anything, then you don't have to.”  


Penny gave him a grateful smile and nodded her understanding.  


“Okay.” Malcolm looked over his shoulder at Chris. “What do you want to ask her, mate?”

~*~

Brahms watched Chris and tried to keep a tight rein on his anger. Who did this prat think he was, coming here and acting so rudely in _his_ fucking house? He should throw him out into the storm right now, then Greta could call the police and say that a strange man was trespassing on the property and harassing her.  


“You know what I want to ask her,” Chris said, his voice rising.  


“Fine,” Malcolm said, sounding tired. “Penny? What happened the night you died?”  


Penny sent a quick glance in Brahms's direction and then started writing. He felt his stomach drop. She wouldn't really tell them what happened, would she? He was sure she wouldn't but still... she spent all that time trying to get someone's attention so she could tell her story and now she had the spotlight. He thought about what would have happened had Malcolm seen Penny sooner in a reflective surface, how she would have gratefully told him all about the murderer who lurked within the walls.  


_I deserve to be caught_ , Brahms realized. He loved Penny so much, he knew she deserved justice for what he'd done to her.  


Penny held up the notepad and Malcolm read it out.“I got up during the night to use the bathroom. I was still half asleep and it was dark. I fell down the stairs.”  


Brahms looked at Penny sharply. She was watching him, a gentle look in her eye. She was protecting him. Why would she do that? It wasn't right. He needed to start taking responsibility for his actions and here she was completely absolving him. He knew he should be feeling relieved right about now but a sick feeling curled up in his gut.  


“Okay,” Chris said and headed for the door.  


“What--” Malcolm started to ask.  


Chris turned around. “Thanks for the bullshit magic show. I'm going back to my car.”  


“Why don't you ask something else?” Greta suggested quickly. “Something that only you and Penny would know.”  


“And just share my personal life with three strangers?” Chris asked sarcastically.  


“You already have by coming here,” Brahms snapped.  


“Oh, I'm sorry, am I bothering you?” Chris stalked toward Brahms. “Is my grief making your life a little more difficult?”  


“Yes,” Brahms said simply.  


Chris's nostrils flared. “Too fucking bad, bean pole. I want to know what happened to my fiancee.”  


“Ex fiancee,” Brahms said. “Where was this touching level of concern when you left her crying and begging you to stay with her?”  


A sick look of grief washed over Chris's face. “You shut your mouth,” he whispered.  


“You shut yours,” Brahms growled. “You barged in here uninvited and you're accusing innocent people of Penny's death. Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire didn't touch her. Penny's told you herself what's happened. What else do you need? A blood oath? A royal decree? Pinkie swear?”  


Rage contorted Chris's features. “I'm not leaving until someone takes responsibility for Penny's death. And I want all of you to stop this bullshit about ghosts. She's gone.” The anger drained from him and his shoulders slumped. “She's gone. I just... I'll be in my car.” He headed out the door.  


“Wait!” Greta went after him.  


Malcolm sighed and leaned his shoulder against the mirror, smiling ruefully at Penny. “That could have gone better.”  


Penny scribbled something and held it up. HE ISN'T USUALLY LIKE THIS.  


“People behave strangely when they're grieving.” Malcolm nodded. “I mean, look at the Heelshires and their doll.”  


Brahms cleared his throat. “Can we go now?”  


“Yes, I think so. We're probably done here. Short of hearing Penny with his own two ears, we're not going to convince him by relaying messages.” Malcolm got a sudden look of realization on his face and stood upright.  


“What?” Brahms asked while Penny looked between the two of them anxiously.  


“I might...” Malcolm licked his lips. “Be sure to come back to the house tomorrow afternoon, all right? I've had an idea.”  


“Okay,” Brahms said uncertainly. He looked at Penny who just shrugged at him.  


“Yes, tomorrow. Around three?” Malcolm pushed off of the mirror. “I'll see you then.”  


Brahms watched Malcolm hurry from the room and then looked to Penny. “How are you feeling?”  


“Shitty.” She smiled a little sadly. “I wish we could have finished your dream.”  


“Me too,” Brahms said with such feeling that it made her giggle.  


Penny held a hand out to him. “Ready to go back?”  


“I've been ready to go back since we got here,” he said, taking her hand in his.  


Greta came in the door just then and stared at Brahms holding hands with empty air. “Ah! Good, I caught you before you left. I've offered Chris a room for the night. But um... I'd appreciate it if you guys stayed here, too. I was going to ask Malcolm but he kind of rushed out of here.”  


Brahms looked to Penny who shrugged and nodded. “Yes, that's fine.”  


“Thank you.” She looked relieved. “I felt bad for him but at the same time I'm not comfortable being in the house alone with him, you know?”  


“I understand,” Brahms said. “I need to go to the cottage to get a few things first and then we'll be back.”  


“We,” Greta repeated and laughed a little. “All those times you said 'we' you meant you and Penny.”  


_You and Penny_. Brahms liked the sound of that. He smiled at Greta and let Penny tug him from the room. They passed Chris on the way out but he didn't look at them as they went out the door. He sat on the stairs with his head in his hands and Brahms almost felt a little sorry for him.

~*~

“I suppose you're going to have dinner over there, too, right?” Penny called upstairs as Brahms put together his toiletries and a change of clothes into his valise.  


“Hadn't thought about it,” Brahms called back. He looked wistfully at his bed and sighed before heading downstairs. He stood in the lounge and watched Penny gather together her sketchbook and pencils. “I can put those in my bag so the rain doesn't soak them.”  


She looked up and smiled at him gratefully. “Thank you. I don't want anything happening to these.”  


“Here.” He held out a hand and Penny gave them to them but somehow she let go too soon or he didn't open his hand soon enough and everything spilled to the floor, papers twirling on their way to the threadbare carpet. “Shit!”  


“My fault,” Brahms said and knelt to retrieve them. He picked up one paper and turned it over, going still at what he saw.  


It was a preliminary sketch. A little girl stood in an attic looking surprised while hunched on top of a pile of boxes was a little boy with messy curly hair wearing a mask over his face. It was a simple black mask, nothing like his porcelain one but the resemblance to him was unmistakable.  


“What's this?” he asked slowly.  


“Oh!” Penny looked embarrassed. “Um. Something I'm working on.”  


“I can see that.” He handed the paper to her and scooped up the rest, sifting through the pages. “What's the story?”  


Penny smiled at him. “A little girl moves to a big new house with her family. She meets a strange boy in the attic. He's been abandoned and the little girl takes care of him. They fall in love.”  


Brahms swallowed. “That's nice.”  


She laughed softly. “Thanks. There's more but we should probably--”  


“No, I want to hear it,” he said sincerely.  


Penny sat down on the sofa and Brahms took a seat beside her. She arranged her sketches in order and started explaining the rest of the story. “So they keep the boy secret in the attic until one day her parents find out. They tell them that sometimes you have to ask for help and the parents call the authorities. The girl worries she'll never see the boy again. But the family's gardener adopts the boy and they grow up together. Then the boy leaves to seek his fortune. The girl waits at the house until one day...” She shows him the sketch of a woman who looked quite a bit like Penny writing at a table. In the next sketch she's at the door and a tall man with wild, curly hair stands there. The next sketch, they're embracing, and the final drawing is a boat sailing away.  


“I like that we get a happily ever after,” Brahms said quietly.  


Looking a little sad, Penny put her sketches back into her book and then handed them to him. She stood when he did and watched him nestle her drawings carefully in his valise.  


“Well, let's go keep Greta company,” Brahms said, holding his hand out to her.  


Penny took it. “I think it would be a nice gesture if you made dinner for her. She's made you I don't know how many meals now.”  


“Good idea. I'm guessing Chris will have to eat as well. It wouldn't be very nice to make him watch, after all.”  


“Okay.” Penny shrugged. “We can put some Ex-Lax in his serving.”  


Brahms gave her a startled look and when she gave him a goofy grin, he burst out laughing. The two of them left the cottage giggling, hand in hand.

~*~

Malcolm was heading up the walk to the poky little house when the door opened and an elderly woman came out clutching a cloth bag and an umbrella. When she spotted him, he waved, but she only gave him a disapproving stare.  


“Hullo, Nan,” Malcolm greeted his grandmother.  


“I was just on my way out,” she said stiffly.  


Mentally, Malcolm rolled his eyes. His relationship with his grandmother had been rocky since he'd refused to go to school and get qualifications for a “good” job. She didn't know why he'd want to be a grocer like his father and had been sniffy with him ever since. It didn't help that he'd been calling on her often lately, doing chores and buttering her up before delicately asking for her expertise concerning the dead. It hadn't worked so far.  


“Yes, of course,” Malcolm said. “This won't take long. You see, the situation at the Heelshires has reached--”  


“I don't care what it's reached,” she snapped. “You had no business mixing yourself up with those unfortunate people. If you were wise, and that's quite a big 'if', you'd remove yourself while you still can. Once you start showing off what little you can do, _those people_ come out of the woodwork and expect you to do every little thing for them. Not a moment's rest. Leave it alone, Malcolm. And don't go dragging me into it.” She opened her umbrella and raised it over her head. Her expression gentled a little. “You're a good boy in your way. Don't put yourself in danger with _those people_. They don't care who they bother and hurt so long as they get what they want.”  


“Penny isn't like that,” Malcolm protested. “It's a living person causing the problem!”  


“Then call the police,” she said crisply. “Good day, Malcolm.”  


He stepped aside but walked with her down the path to the street where her little car was parked. “Nan, it's raining cats and dogs out, you shouldn't be driving anywhere.”  


“I always meet with Anna Llewellyn and Lois Grimsby at this time every week for our sewing circle and I'm not stopping on account of a little rain.” She glanced over at him, a little twinkle in her eye. “You look like your mother when you frown at me like that.”  


He sighed heavily. “Well, be safe.”  


“I always am.” His grandmother got into her car, tossing her sewing bag onto the passenger seat, then started up the motor and drove smartly away.  


Malcolm watched her car go out of view and then walked back up to the house. In the front garden, he found a stone turtle and turned it over, revealing a house key. He walked up to the door, looking cautiously over his shoulder but no one was out in this weather. Then he let himself inside.  


He carefully removed his wet things by the door, hoping whatever he dripped onto the hardwood floor would dry before his grandmother got home. Then he walked through the dim house, afraid to turn on any lights lest the neighbors notice and went straight to the tiny library.  


Swearing softly after he stumbled over an ottoman, Malcolm took out his cellphone and used the flashlight feature. He went to the shelves and scanned them, not really sure what he was looking for. A big, thick leather-bound book caught his attention with the title: A GUIDE TO THE BEYOND AND THOSE WHO RESIDE THERE. Taking the book down, he flipped through the pages to the table of contents. His searching finger drifted down the page and stopped at the chapter title: COMMUNING WITH THE DEAD.  


“Got it,” he muttered and snapped the book closed.


	20. Chapter 20

Penny, Brahms, and Greta whiled away the rest of the afternoon by playing cards around the kitchen table. After a few games of Hearts, Greta had stopped jumping when Penny's cards would suddenly come into view when she put them down. The notepad was also on the table so Penny could communicate with Greta as well.  


“Why didn't you ever try to write me messages before?” Greta asked.  


Penny bit her lip. She had. Only Brahms had found them first and tore them up. He hunched his shoulders at this reminder of his earlier behavior.  


IT WAS A CONFUSING TIME UNTIL I MET AARON.  


Greta smiled when she read this. “You guys are cute in a strange kind of way.”  


“Thanks?” Brahms said and they all laughed.  


Chris walked into the kitchen then and they fell silent. “Didn't mean to break up the party,” he said sullenly. “I was thirsty.”  


“The glasses are in that cupboard there,” Greta pointed out. “There's not really much to drink other than water. There's milk, if you're interested.”  


“Thanks.” Chris got his glass and went with water. He leaned against the sink and watched them for a moment. “What are you playing?”  


Greta looked up at him and smiled. “Hearts. Wanna play?”  


“Not especially.” He watched Penny's discards shift across the table to Brahms and his frown deepened. “Wow, you guys are really committed to this ghost thing. How are you getting the cards to move like that? Magnets?”  


STOP BEING AN ASSHOLE, Penny wrote, making sure it was in her usual cursive hand. Brahms happily held the notepad up for Chris's gaze but he was already walking out of the room with his glass of water.  


“We'll call you when dinner's ready,” Greta said to his retreating back. He didn't answer and she sighed. “Poor guy.”  


“Poor guy?” Brahms repeated incredulously. “He's insufferable!”  


Greta came him a look. “He's grieving.”  


“So do people every day and they don't act like him.” Brahms slouched in his chair. “Now he's walking about moaning about his long lost love like he's Miss Havisham but the bounder's the one who broke up with Penny, not the other way around! The way Penny tells it, he had ample time to beg for forgiveness and come crawling back but he chose not to and she came here instead.”  


“That's what makes it worse,” Greta said quietly. “Knowing everything you did wrong that led up to the loss. He's going over in his head all the times he should have picked up the phone and called her, all the times he should have driven over after work to talk to her, all the times...” She set her cards down. “I'm sorry, I'm not really feeling up to playing anymore.”  


Brahms looked worried. “Are you all right?”  


“I'm just going to lay down for a bit before dinner. I was thinking I'd make--”  


“Don't worry about that,” Brahms interrupted her. “Penny and I are making dinner tonight. You just relax.”  


Greta gave him a grateful look. “Thanks. I'll be down later.” She left the room.  


Penny got up as Brahms shuffled Greta's cards back into the deck. “Where are you going?”  


“I'm going after her. Stay here.”  


“But--”  


“I just wanna see if she's okay.” She scooped up her notepad and blew him a quick kiss on her way out.

~*~

Greta was laying in bed when someone knocked softly at her door. She had a feeling who it was and said, “Come in.”  


The door opened, revealing no one but she knew it was actually Penny. The door clicked shut and then the notepad suddenly appeared on the duvet next to her. ARE YOU OKAY?  


After a moment of debating how honest she should be, Greta decided to throw caution to the wind. “No. I'm not.” A cool breeze seemed to blow over her shoulder and Greta realized that Penny had just patted her comfortingly. Touched by the kind gesture, Greta's eyes filled with tears. She sat up and looked roughly where she thought Penny would be.  


“See, before I came here? I was seeing this guy. Cole. He was a classic bad boy and I was dumb enough to think that I could change him. You know? But you can't change anyone yourself. They have to want to change. And Cole liked the way he was just fine. It didn't take long before he got violent with me. I'd try to break it off but he'd come crying back, begging for forgiveness. I took him back every time. But then I got pregnant and... one day he...” She swallowed hard and she felt the cool air around her shoulders. “I lost the baby. I haven't spoken to him since. I took the job here so I could get far, far away from him.”  


I'M SORRY.  


“Thanks.” Greta wiped at the tears that spilled down her cheeks.  


I WANTED CHILDREN, TOO. IT'S WHY CHRIS AND I BROKE UP. NOW IT'S NEVER GONNA HAPPEN FOR ME.  


“Oh, Penny...”  


SORRY, I DIDN'T MEAN TO MAKE THIS ABOUT ME. I JUST WANTED YOU TO KNOW THAT I UNDERSTAND HOW YOU'RE FEELING. MAYBE NOT PERFECTLY BUT I GET IT. I'M GONNA LET YOU REST NOW, OKAY?  


“Thanks,” Greta whispered. She lay back down and Penny pulled the duvet over her. Cool air brushed softly over her hair and then her door quietly opened and shut. She drew in a shaky breath and closed her eyes.

~*~

Brahms and Penny cooked up what Penny called “campfire stew.” It was vegetable soup mixed with tomato soup, with chopped onions and ground beef browned in a skillet tossed in. Penny said it would be comforting on such a miserable day. The thunder and lightning had stopped ages ago but the rain continued to pour. Once everything was finished, Brahms called out that dinner was ready and Greta and Chris drifted into the room.  


Chris stood stock still in the doorway when he smelled what was on the stove. “Is that...?”  


“Campfire stew,” Brahms said. “Penny said she learned it at--”  


“Summer camp,” Chris said. “How the fuck did you know that?”  


Brahms rolled his eyes. “I read your mind.”  


Chris scowled and sat down at the table. Brahms ladled generous helpings in bowls for everyone and passed them out. “Penny says that adding a scoop of sour cream makes it even better,” Brahms said, watching Chris's expression go even darker. He didn't go for the sour cream but Greta did and took a big bite.  


“Mmm, nice. Penny was right.”  


“She always is,” Brahms said and then jumped suddenly.  


“What?” Greta asked as he started laughing.  


“Oh, she just poked me. She doesn't like when I say she knows everything.”  


“Would you _please_ stop?” Chris asked and sounded so pained that everyone was quiet for a long time.  


Greta couldn't take the silence anymore and cleared her throat. “So, uh, Chris. Where are you from?”  


“Portland,” he said shortly.  


“Oregon or Maine?”  


He smiled a little. “Oregon. Lived there my whole life.”  


“I've never been.” Greta ate another spoonful of stew and asked, “What do you do in Portland?”  


“I run a record store.” He smiled to himself. “It's where I met Penny.”  


Greta glanced quickly over at Brahms. “Oh. That's... nice.”  


“I didn't own the place yet, I just worked there. And then in comes this gorgeous blonde girl, built like Jessica Rabbit. She was looking for Kate Bush albums. She already had The Kick Inside and Hounds of Love but she wanted the rest. She was eighteen, just finished high school.” He got a distant look in his eye. “I started singing Wuthering Heights to tease her, doing the high creepy voice and everything. And she looked me straight in the eye and said, 'You're a toolbag' and walked right out.”  


Brahms and Greta burst out laughing and even Chris chuckled a little. “I never forgot it. This cute girl calling me on my shit. Anyway, five years go by and she's graduated college by then and come back home. We met up at a mutual friend's party and...” His smile faded. “She'd forgotten me. I didn't remind her and I never brought it up. I just wanted her to like me.”  


“Shit,” Penny whispered. Brahms looked at her face, seeing the sadness there. “I kind of remember that. At least, I remember a guy in a record store being shitty to me.”  


Chris stared down into his bowl. “I only lied about two things when we were together. I lied by omission by not talking about the record store and then later when I said I wanted kids. I didn't want to see her walk away from me again. It hurt the first time and I'd barely known her then. But after she'd been a part of my life? Once I knew what it was like being with her?” He looked up directly at Brahms and his eyes were pleading. “Please stop acting like you can see her. Whatever you're trying to gain from this, I... it's not worth it. You're just tearing me apart. I know I sucked as a boyfriend but I don't think I deserve _this_.”  


“Chris, no one's trying to torment you,” Greta said gently. “Aaron and Malcolm were seeing Penny and talking to her long before you showed up.”  


For a moment, it looked as if he was ready to believe. Hope and hurt shone in his handsome, tired face but then everything just fell. He blankly looked down at his bowl and finished the last few spoonfuls of stew.  


“Thanks for dinner,” he said flatly and took his dish to the sink to wash and rinse. Then he left the room and they heard his footfalls on the stairs until the sound faded away.  


Greta released a long, shaky breath and looked over at Brahms. “Want to play more cards after dinner?”  


“Not especially,” he said quietly.  


She set her spoon down and rubbed at her face with her hand. “Yeah, me neither.”

~*~

Greta was still thinking of Chris as everyone got ready for bed in their separate rooms. She was going through the linen cupboard for extra blankets to take over to him when out of the corner of her eye, she spotted The Little Stranger on the nightstand. She'd finished the book earlier and had flipped back to the initials penciled into the front cover and realized that the book must have been Penny's. She picked the book up and tucked it under her arm before heading out the door and down the hall to where she'd placed Chris for the night.  


He opened the door immediately when she knocked. He was still dressed but he'd taken his boots off. “What's up?” he asked cautiously.  


“Hey,” Greta said softly. “I brought you some more blankets. This house is pretty freezing; you're gonna need these.”  


“Thanks.” He gave her a little grateful smile that faded when she held out the book to him.  


“I found this in the library the other day,” she said, fibbing slightly. She didn't want to admit how long it had actually taken her to finish reading. “I'm pretty sure it was Penny's.”  


Chris stared at the book Greta's hand for an uncomfortable length of time that felt like hours but must have been about thirty seconds and then finally took it from her. “Thanks. If it has PRB in the front...” He flipped it open. “Yeah. This was hers. She actually tried to get me to read this once. I tried but I was working longer hours at the record store. Business was slow and I'd had to let a couple of my guys go so we needed the coverage. I'd come home and be absolutely beat. Every time I'd sit down and try to read anything, I'd conk out in seconds. She never said anything, but I could tell it disappointed her. This was one of her favorite books.”  


“Well, now's your chance to give it a shot,” Greta said, trying to sound optimistic.  


“Right. I'm not sure how well I'm going to sleep tonight anyway. I haven't been sleeping much lately.” He glared over his shoulder. “And I can't get the curtains to close. If I try anymore, I'm just gonna get pissed off and pull the whole thing down.”  


“I can do it,” Greta offered. “They were tricky at first but I eventually got the hang of it.”  


Chris stepped back and waved her in. “Be my guest.”  


Greta went to the window and took the cords. “There's this little twist you have to do...” Seemingly with no effort, she got the curtains closed. “There.”  


“Thanks.” He smiled at her.  


Greta smiled back and saw something shiny and blue pressed between the door and the wall. “What's that?”  


“What's what?” Chris turned to where Greta was looking and his face took on its hangdog appearance once more. “Oh.” He went to the door and pulled it so she could see that hanging on the back was a sky blue dress. “Penny's.”  


“Oh,” Greta said. She didn't really know how to ask what she was wondering and Chris saved her from trying to phrase it.  


“The day I broke our engagement, we'd been planning on going to a party at my sister's house. She had this dress picked out to wear. She found it at some vintage place and was so excited to find something that actually fit her, I guess she had problems with that even though she's not fat at all. I don't get it. Anyway, when I got the news she'd died, I went to her house to break the news to her friend who was house-sitting. I was still kind of in shock and I wandered around looking at everything and here was the dress. Still hanging up on the door. Like maybe I was gonna come back to her and make everything right again. So I took the dress and anywhere I've been, I've hung it up on the door. For Penny. Because I was too fucking weak and now she's dead because of me.”  


“What?” Greta touched his arm. “No, it's not your fault. You didn't--”  


“Penny didn't need to work,” Chris said, wiping at his eyes. “She had some money from a wrongful death lawsuit from her parents, and her grandmother left her a bundle, and she'd made a nice amount from her own career. She worked part-time in childcare because she loved kids and to keep busy but she took this job to try to get over me. If I hadn't dumped her, she'd still be alive.”  


When he put it that way... Greta watched him try not to cry and felt troubled.  


Chris sniffed and passed his arm over his eyes. “Greta, I know you mean well, and I appreciate it, but I need to be alone right now.”  


“I get it,” she said softly and opened the door wider so she could leave. “Good night, Chris.”  


“Good night.”  


Greta closed the door and thought she heard a muffled sob before heading back to her own room.

~*~

Penny sat up in bed with one of her new books, completely absorbed. When the bed bounced she looked up to see Brahms sitting down to pull his boots off. She set her book aside. There was something nice about watching Brahms undress. Not necessarily because of the end result, which was pretty great, but there was such a lazy elegance in his movements that she couldn't help but admire. After the boots came the socks and then he was unbuttoning his flannel shirt.  


“Did I ever tell you that I like your hands?” Penny asked.  


Brahms looked over his shoulder at her in surprise and then smiled. “No, you haven't.”  


“Well, I do. I like your neck, too.”  


“My neck?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.  


“Oh, huh uh, don't.” She giggled and pointed at him. “You like the way I pinch my _lip_ , you don't get to act all weirded out by me liking your neck!”  


He chuckled and went back to undressing, tugging off his undershirt by grasping the back of his collar and pulling it off over his head. The movement mussed his curls endearingly and Penny was about to crawl over and touch him but he suddenly stood up to remove his jeans. Once those were on the floor he turned and pulled back the covers, a question in his eyes.  


She knew the answer she had to give and the answer she wanted to give were complete opposites. “Not tonight,” Penny said softly. “We're not alone.”  


His face fell but he nodded and didn't push the issue. Instead he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Penny watched his face but didn't quite have the nerve to ask him what he was thinking and started to reach for her book.  


“Penny.” He turned his head and looked her in the eyes. “Why didn't you tell them?”  


“Tell them what?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light.  


“You know what,” he said, his voice low. “Why didn't you tell them I killed you?”  


Penny looked down at her hands. Good question. She licked her lips and then tried to piece her thoughts together. “Because I don't think you're a danger to anybody. You've been doing so well, you've made so many changes to your behavior and... Chris wouldn't have taken it well. He'd have beaten you black and blue.”  


“Maybe he should,” Brahms said, his eyes glinting with intensity. “I deserve it. I took your life and your future. You have so many more stories and paintings inside of you and now you won't get to share them with anyone. I killed more than just you but all the light and joy you were going to bring to the world. All because I was frightened and acted without thinking. I really can't even begin to understand why you don't hate me, Penny.”  


“I did hate you,” she reminded him. “For awhile. But Brahms, I've forgiven you.”  


They were both taken surprise by the words and Brahms suddenly sat up and stared at her. He'd apologized more than once for what he'd done and she'd always acknowledged the apology. Never had she actually said she forgave him. As the words left her lips, Penny realized she believed them.  


“I forgive you, Brahms.” She reached out and lightly touched his scarred face. “And I love you.”  


Tears spilled from his eyes. “I don't deserve either of those things.”  


Penny smiled and shrugged a shoulder. “Love and forgiveness aren't things you're entitled to or deserve. They're gifted to you. Let this be my gift to you.”  


“I really wish we could truly spend the night together,” he said gruffly. “I want to show you how much that gift means to me.”  


She laughed softly. “Another night, maybe. For now, I'm going to stay right next to you all night. I can read in the dark so the light won't bother you.”  


Brahms lay back down again and watched her read, a sweet look of wonder on his face, until eventually he drifted off to sleep. Penny kept her word and stayed next to him, careful not to touch him so he could dream by himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually say all my thanks at the end of a story and we still have a little ways to go until then (don't worry!), but I really did just want to take a moment here to thank everybody for reading this. I've been having a pretty shitty time recently and the kudos and comments here have been a bright spot for me. Thanks so much to all of you for supporting this story, it means a lot. I'd happily play a game of Hearts and eat some campfire stew with you guys any day. <3


	21. Chapter 21

In the morning, Brahms and Penny made French toast for breakfast with fruit salad. Greta was delighted when she saw it but Chris didn't put in an appearance. When they'd all finished eating, Greta went to check on him and reported that he wasn't in his room. The bed was made, the extra blankets folded neatly on a chair. They all gathered at a window and peeked around a curtain to see him sitting behind the wheel of his car, staring off into space.  


“God, he's gotten weird,” Penny muttered.  


“I'd be a wreck if I lost you, too, Pen,” Brahms said quietly.  


Greta gave him a sad smile and dropped the curtain, going off to the library to read the next book Penny had offered her. That left Penny and Brahms alone.  


“So what should we do?” Penny asked. “It's still pouring rain and Malcolm will be here this afternoon so we should stay close.”  


Brahms looked innocent. “I could take a nap...”  


Penny's eyes sparkled. “No way. You'll make a mess in the bed and embarrass everyone.”  


He laughed. After their first time together in dreams, he'd woken up sticky but happy. Penny was right that he couldn't do that in one of the beds in the house, not unless he immediately washed the bedding. It would be completely obvious to Greta why he was washing them after only one use. His little know it all made a good point.  


“How about we do some sexy portraiture?” she suggested with a wicked smile. “Let's go upstairs and I'll draw you like my French girls.”  


“Like your what?” Brahms asked, interested.  


Penny giggled. “Sorry, it's a movie reference. You should take your shirt off and I'll draw you.”  


His eyes lit up. “That could be fun.”  


“Well, what are we waiting for? Show me what you got.”

~*~

Greta was still in the library reading when the phone rang. She jumped, unused to the sound, and hurried to the kitchen to pick up the extension there. “Hello?”  


“Gret, hey.”  


“Sandy.” Greta sagged against the wall. “God, sorry I didn't call last night. There's been so much going on here that I just--”  


“Listen, I don't have a lot of time to talk but I just wanted to give you a heads up: Cole came by here the other day asking about you.”  


Greta's heart went cold. “You didn't tell him where I was, did you?”  


“No, I was at work. But Morgan was home.”  


“He didn't say anything, did he??”  


“He's ten! He was scared and he just wanted Cole to leave. Besides, all Cole was asking for was an address so he could write to you.”  


Closing her eyes, Greta pressed a hand to her face. “Great.”  


“Don't read anything that asshole sends.”  


“I won't,” Greta promised. “I won't.”

~*~

By the time Malcolm arrived at the house around 2:30 in the afternoon, Penny had five drawings of Brahms with his shirt off and one shirtless with his jeans undone. There was significant scarring on his shoulders and along his arms which she took the time to detail as much as she could, making a mental note to kiss every one of them once she had the opportunity.  


“Aaron? Penny? Malcolm's here. He needs us downstairs,” Greta called from the hall.  


“Coming!” Brahms slid his undershirt and flannel on again while giving Penny a little grin. He'd been adorably bashful at first about taking off his shirt until she'd complimented his chest hair and then he'd basked in her attention, eager for her to see all of him. Not that she hadn't seen him before, but that was the dream place where flaws were smoothed over or just went unnoticed. For some reason, the dreams had smoothed out his few scatterings of freckles on his neck which kind of amused her.  


When they got downstairs, Chris was just coming in through the door. He reluctantly nodded a greeting at Brahms who nodded back a little stiffly. Then they went into the kitchen where Greta and Malcolm stood, talking quietly. They fell silent once they were joined by the others.  


“Hey,” Greta said to Chris softly. “Are you ready?”  


“What's happening, exactly?” Chris asked, his tone sharp.  


Malcolm held up a book. “I have a way for you to speak to Penny directly. No middlemen.”  


“What, are we gonna have a fucking séance?” Chris asked. When everyone just stared at him, he scoffed. “You're all insane. You know that, right?”  


“Let's just give it a try,” Greta said, sounding optimistic. “If it doesn't work then you can go back to your car and wait for the Heelshires to get back from their vacation. And if it does, you can hear everything directly from Penny. You're no worse off than you were before, right?”  


He didn't go rushing to agree but he didn't continue to argue, either. Everyone sat down at the table and then looked at Malcolm expectantly. Malcolm was holding the book in his hands and opening it to a page he'd marked with a yellow Post-It.  


“All right, we have everyone here. We just need something that belonged to Penny. Chris, do you have anything like that? An article of clothing, otherwise, we could have probably just use one of her books.”  


Chris looked uncomfortable and then slowly nodded. “Should I go...?”  


“Is it out in your car?” Malcolm asked. “You don't have to drive to your hotel, do you?”  


“No, I have it here.” Chris shared an unhappy look with Greta and then stood. “Just a second.”  


They waited while Chris left the house. Malcolm read the book quietly while Greta and Brahms shifted nervously in their seats. Penny kind of hoped that Chris would lose his nerve, start up the car, and leave. No such luck; only a few minutes passed and Chris came in holding her pretty blue vintage dress. She gasped at the sight of it.  


Brahms sat up straight when he saw it. “You have that?”  


Chris looked at him sharply. “Yes. Why?”  


Cutting a quick look at Penny, seeing the sad look on her face, he mumbled, “No reason.”  


“Lay the dress in the middle there and then sit down,” Malcolm said. He placed the book on the table top. “We're ready to begin.”  


“Do we need to hold hands?” Greta asked.  


Malcolm's mouth quirked up into a little smile. “No, we all just need to think about Penny. Picture her in your mind while I speak the words.”  


“I've never seen her, though,” Greta said.  


“Then think about what she's said to you, about your interactions with her. You've had those, haven't you?” When Greta nodded, Malcolm nodded back. “Okay. Here we go, then.”  


Chris quietly said, “This is so fucking stupid.”  


“Shhh!” Brahms hissed, earning a dirty look from Chris.  


Malcolm made a point of loudly clearing his throat and then began to read. “We gather today to beseech thee, those who are called 'they' to bring us the spirit of Penelope Beech. Let her cross from twilight to daylight, to leave behind shadow and join us in the mortal realm. From memory and dream release her to earthly clay, from between the sun rays to the light of day. Release her to us, to her once home, the land of breath and life.”  


Brahms glanced at Penny and jolted when he saw her fading. “Penny!”  


“Shhh!” Greta glanced nervously at Malcolm. He was starting to glow a little, his voice seeming to get deeper and louder as he spoke.  


“Penelope Beech,” Malcolm said, his voice seeming to come from every direction. “Penelope Beech. Penelope Beech.”  


Penny had faded completely away. Brahms stood up. “She's gone! What the fuck did you do to her?!”  


Malcolm's glow faded and he looked worried, flipping through the pages of the book. “I- I read out the bit for communing with the dead, I'm not sure--”  


“You're not _sure_?!” Brahms shouted. “What the fuck were you thinking??”  


“Aaron!” Greta shouted, pointing.  


They all looked where she indicated, at the dress on the table. It was twisting and shifting where it lay and everyone pushed back from the table and backed away. A few moments later, a pair of legs came out of the dress, then arms. The bodice of the dress filled out into a womanly shape and then then finally a head covered in long, golden hair came out through the neck hole.  


Penny sat up on the table and let out a loud, shocked gasp.  


“Oh my god,” Malcolm breathed.  


“Is that her?” Greta asked, voice hushed.  


Penny stared frantically around her. “I- I can't see!”  


“Did she come back blind?” Greta asked Malcolm who was helplessly flipping through the book, not knowing what to do.  


Brahms approached the table. “She hasn't got her glasses on.” He reached out for her. “Pen?”  


She turned in the direction of his voice and relaxed when he drew close enough for her to see better. “Hi. Everything's so blurry.”  


“I know,” he said gently. He looked over at Chris, who was staring at Penny, pale and wide-eyed. “Do you still have all of her things? You haven't sent them ahead to America have you?” When Chris didn't respond, Brahms growled and was about to repeat himself but Penny cut in.  


“Um, everything hurts,” she said in a small voice that trembled a little. “My hands and feet sting.”  


“They sting?” Brahms reached out for her and his heart sang when he felt real, warm flesh. Well, she felt a little cool to the touch. She was wearing a summer dress in England during the autumn so that was to be expected.. He watched her face carefully for any sign of pain as he experimentally squeezed her hands.“It may just be your circulation.”  


Penny nodded slowly. “Right. Yeah, it does feel like pins and needles. I'd forgotten that.”  


“Pen,” Brahms said quietly. She looked up into his eyes and he smiled. “I think you're alive, love.”  


She drew in a shaky breath and then suddenly burst into tears.

~*~

Everything was so overwhelming. There was this steady thumping inside of her that she found so distracting and a little irritating, she could feel the fabric of the dress against her skin which felt so abrasive, the pins and needles sensation in her limbs was driving her to distraction, she felt so fucking cold, and everything was just so blurry it made her head ache and... and...  


She was _alive_.  


As she sobbed her eyes out, Brahms scooped her up into his arms and carried her to another room. She looped her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his shoulder. He murmured gently to her and then he carefully placed her on a sofa. He knelt down on the floor and started shifting around, tugging off his flannel shirt which he then draped over her.  


“There,” he murmured. His hand gently stroked her hair. “There, now. It's all right.”  


“I don't like this,” she croaked. She searched his face for understanding. “It's too much.”  


He continued to stroke her hair, a gentle look on his face. “You haven't had a body for a long time. It'll take some getting used to.”  


“Uh huh.” Penny closed her eyes and sniffled. The only physical sensation not bothering her right now was his hand on her hair. “I only like you,” she said suddenly, sounding like a sulky child.  


Brahms laughed softly. “That's how I feel about you, too.”  


She pulled the flannel shirt closer around her. The smell of him filled her nostrils and she let out a dreamy sigh. “Wow. You smell so, so, so much better than you used to.”  


“Thank you. I think.”  


Penny suddenly sat up and pressed her face into his neck, breathing in his scent. “Uh huh. I like your smell. It's spicy and... um... something. Something Brahmsy.”  


He swallowed hard and gently cupped the back of her head. “Pen, you can't...”  


“Oh, right.” She sat back and gave him an apologetic look, rubbing the last of her tears from her face. “I can't call you Brahms in front of everybody. It has to be Aaron.”  


“No, I uh, I meant...” He looked down. “I meant you can't be that close to me right now. It makes me a little, er, anxious.”  


“Anxious?” Penny asked, confused. He gestured to his crotch. “Oh! Oh, sorry. I wasn't thinking. Well, I was thinking, but all I could think of was how nice you smelled and it was the first thing not to annoy me about being back.”  


Brahms looked concerned. “Everything's annoying you?”  


“Well, not you,” Penny said. “But everything else, yeah.”  


He smiled, cupping her face in one hand. He smoothed his thumb over her cheekbone. Her skin felt velvety smooth. All this time, he'd been longing for her touch, to feel her as a living flesh and blood woman. “Oh, Pen...”  


“Aaron?” Greta's voice from the doorway tugged his attention away from her. “How is she?”  


“She isn't dressed properly for this climate and she doesn't have her glasses, and she's a little overwhelmed by suddenly being not dead anymore. Other than that...?”  


“I'm okay, Greta, thanks,” Penny said. She put her arms through the sleeves of the flannel shirt. “Sorry if I scared you guys.”  


“No, it's okay,” Greta reassured her. “None of us was really expecting this, least of all Malcolm. I don't think he actually knows anything that book does.” She took a few more steps into the room, staring at Penny in open fascination. “You're really here. It's so nice to finally meet you.”  


Penny gave her a wobbly smile. “You too.”  


“Where's Chris?” Brahms asked.  


Greta looked between him and Penny. “He's in the kitchen, still at the table.”  


“Can you ask him to bring Penny's things here? She needs her glasses and warm clothing. Unless you have something she can borrow...?”  


Penny laughed. “I don't think anything Greta has would fit me. We're radically different body types.”  


“I used to lay awake at night crying when I was thirteen, wishing I had a figure like yours,” Greta said, laughing. “The boys used to tease me for being flat chested.”  


Sighing, Penny curled her feet under her, hoping they'd warm up. “I had the opposite problem. They were always trying to snap my bra straps or look down my shirt.”  


“Guys suck.”  


“I _know_!” Penny suddenly looked at Brahms and quickly added, “Not you.”  


He smiled a little. “Thanks. What do you want to do now?”  


Penny held out her hands to him and he took them, helping her to her feet. She was limping from the pain of her circulation and her head was starting to ache from all the blurriness around her. “I better go talk to Chris. Then can we go home?”  


“Of course,” he said softly, squeezing her hands.  


Brahms guided Penny into the kitchen, Greta leading the way. They found Chris sitting at the table, his head in his hands. He looked up when they came in and tears were coursing steadily down his cheeks. His chest hitched when he saw Penny and he shot up out of his seat and hurried to her.  


“Pen,” he said, his voice breaking. “Oh god, Pen. I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry.” He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her waist, sobbing into her tummy. “I never should have left you. I should have taken your calls or answered your email or something. This is all my fault, Pen, I'm so sorry.”  


Penny was still holding Brahms's hand but let his fingers slip from hers. She saw the frightened look on his face and smiled at him reassuringly. Then she placed her hands on Chris's strong shoulders and said, “Shhh. Chris, stand up, okay?”  


Sniffling, Chris struggled to his feet but continued to hold onto her. Penny reached down and gently but firmly removed his hands from her waist. “My death wasn't your fault. I need you to believe that. It had nothing to do with you and I don't blame you for what happened to me here. I'm not mad at you for breaking up with me, either. I forgive you.”  


He wiped his eyes and said miserably, “You don't want me back, do you?”  


Eyes sympathetic, she shook her head. “No. I'm sorry.”  


“I started reading that book you gave me,” he said. “The Little Stranger. It's good. I'm sorry I didn't read it before. I was tired but I could have brought it with me to work to read on my breaks. I should have made an effort to appreciate something you wanted to share with me. You listened to every record I ever recommended to you a-and you tried to watch sports with me. God, Pen. I loved you so much and if I'd done a better job of showing it, then maybe...”  


“We all have regrets,” Penny said.  


Chris nodded, looking tired. “I have your stuff back at my hotel. I'll go get it for you. I think there's a pair of glasses in your purse. Only one? I thought you had a back-up pair.”  


“I think that one's my back-up pair,” Penny said. “I broke my glasses during my fall.”  


Chris swallowed hard. “Penny, were you pushed?”  


She looked away from him. “I told you what happened. Just let it go, okay?”  


His eyes narrowed. “Penny...”  


“Chris, please!” She pressed a hand to her temple. “God, I have such a splitting headache and now my stomach hurts. Can you give me a few minutes of fucking peace?!”  


Brahms protectively pulled Penny to his side. “Can you just go get her things? She'll feel better when she has her glasses.”  


“Don't talk about me like I'm five,” Penny snapped.  


Greta entered the room then and everyone turned to stare at her. She was taken aback by the attention but put on a fake smile and handed Penny a rolled up pair of socks. “Here. It's some knee socks. They'll help keep you warm until you have your stuff.” She looked at Chris. “Where's your hotel?”  


“It's all the way in London,” Chris said, still staring at Penny suspiciously.  


“Great, then you should probably get going now. Have a nice dinner, get some rest, and then come back in the morning.” Greta started to guide him out of the room to the front door. “We really appreciate you getting Penny's stuff for her. This is all so unexpected...” Her voice faded as they walked away.  


Brahms watched Penny rub at her eyes. “I'm sorry for being condescending.”  


She sighed. “No, you're... It's fine. I'm just crabby.” She sat down at the kitchen table and rolled on the knee socks. She stood up again and then giggled. “Wow. Check out this ensemble.”  


With warm eyes, Brahms looked Penny up and down, dressed in a pretty blue sun dress with his flannel shirt hanging off of her and now black knee socks covering her legs. “You look beautiful.”  


“Liar.” Her eyes sparkled.  


Brahms picked her up in his arms, making her squeak in surprise. “Come on, then. Let's get you home. Can't walk on wet grass in socks, after all.”  


“No, that's true.” Penny wrapped her arms around his neck. “I could get used to you carrying me around.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek.  


“Well, I could, too, if it means you're going to kiss me.”  


She whispered in his ear, “I'll do a lot more than that.”  


Eagerly, Brahms hurried them out the back door, Penny giggling the whole way.


	22. Chapter 22

Brahms carried Penny over the cottage's threshold and set her down carefully. “Do you still sting?”  


“Not as bad as I used to. My feet still kind of hurt but my hands are fine.” She watched him shut the door and lock it. Malcolm wouldn't be able to let himself in again and interrupt them. Excitement sent her heart pounding harder and she pressed her hands to her face, feeling her cheeks beginning to flush.  


“And how's your head?” Brahms turned back to her and so sweetly tilted his head, looking into her eyes with adorable concern.  


Penny smiled and stepped closer, raising up on her tiptoes to kiss him. She kept it light for now and drew back before the kiss could get any deeper. “Still a little achey. I'm mostly just cold.” She shivered for effect and then widened her eyes. “Can you warm me up?”  


He swallowed hard. “How... how should I do that?”  


She pretended to think about it, deliberately pinching her lower lip. “Hmmm. I heard skin to skin works best.”  


Brahms stared at her hungrily. “Yeah? How's that work?”  


“Well, we take our clothes off and-- EEP!” He'd scooped her up again mid-sentence and was rushing them up the stairs. She laughed happily and wound her arms around his neck. “I love how fun you can be.”  


“We're going to have _lots_ of fun,” Brahms promised. Once in his bedroom, he set her down on his bed and eagerly tugged his t-shirt up and off. Penny felt like she knew every freckle, every patch of hair after her morning of drawing his chest repeatedly. Yet she still couldn't look away, staring as he got to work unbuttoning his jeans. It had been different then. She'd been dead and there hadn't been a wet, throbbing ache between her legs.  


When he sat down to tug off his boots, Penny draped herself over his back and started kissing his neck and shoulders. He moaned and went still. Like she'd promised to herself, she kissed every scar she could reach and then hugged him around his middle, resting her head against his back.  


“Pen,” he said softly, placing a hand over hers.  


“Yeah?” she whispered.  


“I love you.”  


She heaved a happy sigh. “I love you, too.” Turning her head, she kissed his shoulder blade. “But you want to get naked right now, huh?”  


“Very much so, yes.”  


Giggling, Penny released him and he continued removing his boots and then his socks. While his back was turned, Penny eagerly slipped off the flannel shirt and knee socks and when he stood up with his back still facing her, she got the dress unzipped and off. When he turned toward, he could only gape at her, seeing her fully nude and reclining on the mattress, smiling up at him. She crooked her finger and he eagerly scrambled onto the bed, his mostly hard cock bobbing.  


“Skin on skin?” he asked shakily.  


“Mmm hmm.” Penny smiled and reached her arms out for him. He nestled down between her thighs and lowered himself so their chests touched. Penny wrapped her legs around his waist and ran her fingers through his hair until his eyes closed with bliss.  


“Are you warm?” Brahms asked. His voice was deep and gave her the shivers.  


“Uh huh,” she breathed. “Especially here...” She took his hand and placed it on her pussy.  


He breathed out harshly. “Oh, god, Pen...”  


“Do you know what would make me even warmer there?”  


“What?” he asked eagerly.  


“If you kissed me.”  


He lowered his head to hers and passionately kissed her, practically vibrating with pent-up energy until she opened her mouth to him and the kiss could get darker, more erotic. Growling and humping against her, she knew Brahms was going to pop if she didn't calm him down a little.  


Penny broke the kiss and when his eyes slowly fluttered open she said softly, “Not just these lips.”  


His eyes went dark. “Yeah? You want that?”  


She nodded enthusiastically. “I love that.”  


“Okay.” He looked uncertain for a moment. “I hope I remember how to do it...”  


“I think you'll be great,” Penny swore. “I really do.”  


With a little grin, he slid down her body and settled down between her spread legs. Experimentally, he traced a finger over her folds, staring in fascination at her smooth, pink flesh. When her hips bucked, he looked up at her, a smile in his eyes. She rose up on her elbows and bit her lip in frustration, watching him.  


Then he lowered his head and lapped at her. She whimpered and tossed her head back. Oh god, his mouth felt so warm and soft.  


“Ohhhhhhhhh, love,” Brahms moaned. “You didn't... this is different from before. You taste like... like... something sweet... I--”  


“Peaches,” Penny said.  


He lifted his head. “Yeah. How did you know?”  


She groaned and fell backward, covering her face with her hands. “It's a stupid story.”  


“Tell me.” He licked her again. “I won't stop. Go on.”  


“Mmm. Okay.” She shifted her hips. “My first boyfriend? When I was fifteen? H-he finally went down on me though it took awhile to talk him into it. He thought vaginas were gross.”  


“Sounds like an idiot,” he growled right on her clit and she wailed.  


“He was! Such an idiot, I really regret dating him. But after that first time, I didn't have to always talk him into it, which I thought was nice. Around that time, his friends would see me at school and sing this awful song called 'Peaches.'”  


“I don't know it,” Brahms murmured before starting to gently lap at her clit.  


“It-it's stupid. It goes 'Movin' to the countryyyyy gonna eat a lotta peaches, Movin' to the countryyy gonna eat me a lotta peaches.' I thought it was weird. Finally one of the idiots' girlfriend told me what it meant, that my boyfriend had told everyone I tasted like peaches. She felt kind of sorry for me but was also sort of grateful; she told me that her boyfriend had been so encouraged by hearing how good I tasted that he finally agreed to go down on her and apparently she tasted like Gushers.”  


He lifted his head, eyebrows quirked. “What are Gushers?”  


“Don't stop!” When he lowered his head again, she said, “They're this fruity snack full of sticky jelly ooze. Really sweet.” Then his tongue circled her clit just right and she couldn't speak until she finally came with a cry, clutching a handful of his curls.  


Grinning boyishly, Brahms rested his chin on her tummy. “Not bad outside of the dream place, yeah?”  


“Mmm,” Penny agreed. She reclined on the pillows and stroked his curls back from his forehead. “Come up here.”  


He eagerly scrambled to lay next to her, gathering her into his arms. His erection had settled down during his time pleasuring her. Murmuring softly, he kissed her and then nuzzled her tumbled, golden hair.  


“So what do you want?” Penny asked, still blissed out from her orgasm. She ran her fingers through his hair and bit her lip when he dreamily closed his eyes. “The same for you?”  


He shrugged and opened his eyes once more. “I like anything. I trust you.”  


It's true that he hadn't had much experience; it was probably best to start simple. She gently but firmly grasped his erection and started to stroke it. His eyes widened and his hips bucked, staring in fascination at her hand.  


“I trust you, too,” Penny whispered as she slowly jacked him off. “I've told you things and let you see parts of me that I don't share with very many people. Do you know why that is?” She leaned forward to tongue lightly at his nipple.  


He moaned and struggled to say, “Be-because you--”  


She nuzzled his chest. “Because I love you.”  


Growling, Brahms pushed her onto her back so suddenly she lost her hold on his cock. He parted her thighs with his insistent hips and propped himself over her on his elbows. A lock of his hair fell into one eye as he practically snarled, “Let me in.”  


Penny was both shocked yet excited by this tonal shift. She tilted her hips and reached down to guide him to her entrance. As soon as the sensitive head of his cock grazed her damp, soft flesh his eyes rolled back in his head. “Oh god, Pen...”  


She nipped his earlobe a little too hard, making him yelp. But when his eyes met hers, he looked a little sheepish.  


“I got too rough, didn't I?”  


“A little bit. Rough can be fun, though. I was worried that you were getting overstimulated.”  


Brahms swallowed. “Maybe a little. Should we do this slow?”  


“At first. Let's get you used to me a little before this goes any further.” She rubbed the head of his cock over her slick folds, watching him carefully as he trembled at the sensation. To tease herself, she circled his head around her clit and let out a breathy “oh” that made his nostrils flare.  


When it seemed like his tremors had settled, she allowed the tip inside her. He gasped and his mouth fell open, staring at her beseechingly. “Pen,” he said, his voice barely audible.  


She waited it out, biting her lip and trying to keep herself from bucking her hips and taking more of him deeper. She could feel her thighs quivering with the strain of holding herself back but she knew that they'd both be disappointed if he finished too soon. Brahms would probably get upset and she didn't want their first time in the real world to be like that.  


“Okay,” she whispered and let him sink inside her to the hilt. “Unh!” She circled her legs around his waist, holding him in place. “Wait, wait, please wait.”  


“I will,” he practically wheezed. He dropped his forehead to hers. “You remember... what you said about sex in the real world versus sex in dreams?”  


“Uh huh.” She felt a little uncomfortable, getting used to the feeling of his cock inside of her. At the same time, excitement built inside her tummy, the excitement of having a new partner, of it being someone she loved so much, someone she never would have guessed would mean so much to her.  


“You were right.” He kissed her, his lips moving slowly against hers like he was sipping from her. He breathed out through the kiss, “This is so much better than a dream.”  


Penny licked his bottom lip and circled her hips. “Go on, then.”  


Brahms withdrew from her warmth and then sank back in, his arms trembling again. Penny looked into his eyes and instead of the crazed lust of earlier, they were soft and hazy with pleasure. She smiled as she met each of his thrusts, unable to break his gaze. Usually she closed her eyes during sex, the better to focus on the physical sensation, but with Brahms she didn't want to look away.  


Tension started to build up inside of her, a heat spiraling in her tummy and pulsing downward to where Brahms steadily pumped, keeping up a surprisingly good rhythm. Unexpectedly, tears started to build up in her eyes and when she blinked, they spilled down her cheeks.  


“Pen?” Brahms went still, brow furrowed in concern.  


“I'm fine,” she said and smiled, bright and genuine. More unshed tears sparkled in her eyes. “I promise.”  


Brahms searched her face for a moment and then nodded slowly, resuming his earlier rhythm. In no time, the heat and tension returned to its earlier level and Penny began to call out, low and urgent. She clutched his back as she came, repeating his name over and over like a prayer.  


A few more tears spilled from her eyes as she sank backwards again, weak from the force of her orgasm. She spread her legs even wider for Brahms and murmured, “You're better than my dreams, too.”  


With a hoarse shout, Brahms came deep inside of her and then sagged weakly so he lay on top of her. Instead of complaining about the extra weight, Penny wrapped her arms around him and held him as he recovered. She stroked the back of his head and kissed the side of his face while he caught his breath.  


“Penny?” Brahms finally said.  


“Yes?”  


“I hope you aren't upset with me but I'd really love a nap.”  


She burst out laughing and hugged him tightly. “Same. Maybe lift up off me first, though? My ribs are starting to hurt.”  


“Oops.” Brahms rose up on his elbows and looked down at her ribs in question. He stared at her breasts and said regretfully, “I didn't even have any fun with those.”  


Penny laughed again. “They'll still be here when you wake up.”  


Sleepily, Brahms snuggled in next to her. “Good.”  


“Um.”  


He cracked open an eye. “What's the matter?”  


“Well. Another difference between dreams and reality?” She grimaced a little. “I'm laying right in the wet spot.”  


“The wet...?” She sat up and shifted so he could see where his ejaculate had leaked out of her onto the sheets. “Oh, Pen, I'm sorry. Let's switch places. I'll lay in it. It's my mess anyway.”  


Penny shook her head. “I'm just gonna get a towel. Be back in a sec.” She scrambled off the bed before he could stop her. He heard some water running and then she came back holding a damp washcloth in one hand and a towel in the other. “I thought you might like to clean up a bit.”  


“Uh huh,” he murmured. She nestled down beside him and started tenderly wiping his softening erection. As she worked, he played with the ends of her hair, twirling a strand around his finger. Then he watched in interest as she cleaned herself up and then tossed the washcloth into the laundry hamper near the door.  


After she spread the towel on the spot, he held his arms open to her and Penny settled down once more.  


“I'm so excited to nap,”she said with a yawn. “I've been fantasizing about sleep for months.”  


Brahms was starting to drift off a little but frowned. “I won't be seeing you in my sleep this time.”  


“No.” She kissed his chest. “I'll meet you later, though.”  


“Mmm.” He smiled. “That's good.”  


They both drifted off to sleep and though they dreamed separately, they continued to lay twined together.

~*~

Brahms woke to Penny starting to stir. He burrowed his face into her hair and moaned, “Be still.”  


“I wanna get up, though.”  


“Why?” he demanded sulkily.  


“I wanna take a bath.” Penny patted his shoulders. “Take a bath with me.”  


He sighed. “Can't we just shower?”  


“No. There's nothing more sensual than sitting in a tub of warm water. Besides, showering with another person sucks. You can't both be under the spray and one of you is always cold. Way overrated. So come bathe with me.” She kept trying to pull out of his arms.  


“Wait a moment,” he protested. “Come back here and greet me properly.”  


“Ohhh, okay.” Penny settled down and started kissing him, slow and dreamy. Her tongue lightly flicked against his, lazy and sexy at the same time. He could spend forever like this if it was possible. When she drew back, she gazed at him fondly before demanding, “Can we take a bath now?”  


“Yes, we can take a bath now,” Brahms said, throwing the covers back. He sounded like he was placating a bratty child.  


Penny rushed from the room and he got a quick look at her round, perfect ass before she was out the door. Grumbling, he rose from the bed and shambled down the hallway, scratching at his neck. He found her kneeling by the tub, testing the temperature on her hand and turning the taps accordingly. She gave him an excited smile that cut through his grouchiness instantly.  


“We should have bubbles!” she exclaimed.  


“I haven't had a bubble bath since I was a kid,” he said, chuckling.  


She picked up a bottle of body wash and poured some out near the tap. Instantly, a thick layer of bubbles formed on the surface of the water. When she was satisfied with the alarming amount of bubbles she wanted, she clambered into the tub and scooted forward, looking up at him expectantly. With a sigh, Brahms climbed in behind her but he cheered up considerably when she scooted back to lay against his chest.  


Not wanting to get her hair wet, she kept her long hair draped over both their shoulders like some kind of bizarre scarf. They didn't speak, just laying there together in the warm water, Penny twining her hand with his and then raising it up to look at their joined hands with a quietly happy look on her face.  


“Pen.” He nuzzled her cheek.  


“Uh huh?” she breathed.  


He hadn't really had anything to say, he'd just wanted to say her name. But now something occurred to him and he asked, “Does it bother you that I call you Pen?”  


“Why would it?” She started swaying their joined hands side to side, unable to look away.  


“Well, _he_ calls you Pen.”  


“Who?” She blinked a little and then realized he meant Chris. “Oh. Right. He isn't the first or only person to call me Pen. It isn't like a special nickname from him or anything. My best friend Emily calls me Pen. Lots of my college friends did. I don't mind at all that you call me Pen.” She tilted her head to look at him upside down. “I doubt you'd want me doing the same thing for you, like calling you Bra.” She giggled uncontrollably and he couldn't help but laugh along with her.  


He picked up a washcloth and started to softly scrub her chest. “Your parents didn't call you Pen, did they?”  


She was quiet for a moment and at first he worried that he'd spoiled the mood. Then she said thoughtfully, “No, they didn't. My mom didn't approve of nicknames. I think she just barely tolerated my dad deliberately pronouncing my name incorrectly. When she was a kid, she wanted to be called Cecelia but Grandma always called her Cici which drove her absolutely nuts. So when they had me, Mom decided I'd just be Penelope. Grandma was the one who always called me Penny.”  


“And which do you prefer?” Brahms asked.  


Penny shrugged. “Any of the above. It's all still me.” She rested her cheek on his chest. “Okay, I gotta ask: how the hell did you end up with a name like Brahms?”  


He lowered the washcloth to scrub in slow circles around her tummy. “Oh, you'll like this story. When Mum was pregnant with me, she listened to a lot of classical music. Wanted to give me a good start in life, yeah? Apparently, one day she was listening to Brahms's Lullaby and that's when I kicked for the first time.”  


“I do like that story.” She sat up and turned slightly sideways to face him. “I'll bet you were an adorable baby.”  


“I was,” he agreed in such a matter of fact tone that it set her off on a giggle fit. “What's so funny?”  


“You,” she said. She cupped his cheek in one hand, looking deeply into his eyes. “You make me happy. I didn't think I could ever be this happy.”  


“Neither did I,” Brahms said, gravely. “Thank you for forcing me out of my wall.”  


She touched her forehead to his briefly and then drew back. “I think the water's getting cold.”  


“Well, then, let's get out and make something to eat then. We missed lunch so what about an early supper?”  


“Food!” she squealed excitedly.  


Brahms reached for the stopper. “I thought that would appeal to you.”

~*~

Downstairs, Brahms and Penny whipped up a homemade pizza with extra gooey cheese. He'd given her his gray button down shirt to wear and it was long enough that it covered all her interesting bits but exposed enough of her thighs to be distracting while he tried to cook. Once in awhile he'd cop a feel and she'd inform him of how many food safety regulations he was breaking. Finally, she heaved a dramatic sigh and unbuttoned the top so he could lift her up onto the counter and then suckle at her breasts all he wanted while the pizza cooked. They got so worked up, he carried her into the living room and she rode him on the couch. It took just long enough that their pizza was only slightly browned, not quite burnt.  


Penny popped a bit of pepperoni in her mouth and sing-songed, “I smell sex and pizza heeere...”  


Brahms laughed. “What?”  


“Nothing. Just goofing around.” She gave him a sudden look of disapproval. “You're way too far away.”  


“I'm sitting right next to you.”  


Playfully, she climbed into his lap and resumed eating her pizza. “There. Much better.”  


“Penny?” Brahms set down his own pizza slice to slide his arms around her waist. He rested his chin on her shoulder. “I wanted to ask you something.”  


“Ask,” she said with no hesitation.  


He opened his mouth and the phone rang. Sighing in frustration, Brahms gently put Penny off his lap. “Sorry, I'd better get that.” She nodded her agreement and he went into the other room to pick up the phone. “Hello?”  


“Brahms?”  


He went still. “Dad.” He could hear Penny's soft intake of breath and then she was up from her chair and hurrying over to his side.  


“Hello, son. We-- I wanted to check on you. To see how everything's going. I just spoke with Greta and she says that, er, Aaron is a very good groundskeeper. She also feels completely safe with him.”  


His chest warmed hearing that his friend had talked him up so much. “Yes. Greta and I are quite good friends.”  


“That's wonderful, son,” his father said warmly. He hadn't heard him sound like this since he was a child. “Listen, I- I wanted to check in with you because I had to be sure...”  


“Sure of what?” Brahms asked.  


“Er. Sure that... well. I was thinking when we got back from vacation, I'd go to my lawyer and see about making Aaron Woodhouse a reality.”  


Brahms looked into Penny's stunned face. “You mean...?”  


“A new identity. You could go anywhere you liked. Greta says you've already driven yourself into town a few times. I really... I really am very proud of you, Brahms.”  


He closed his eyes tightly, feeling Penny's arms circle around him. “Thank you.”  


“Well, I'll be seeing you soon. Take care, Brahms.”  


“Goodnight, Dad.”  


“Goodnight.”  


Brahms hung up the phone and stared at Penny before whooping and lifting her up into his arms to twirl her. She laughed and held onto him tightly until he set her on her own two feet.  


“I'm going to be a real boy again,” Brahms said and buried his face into her golden hair to weep with joy.

~*~

Mr. Heelshire set the phone back in its cradle and then looked over at his wife. His wife who was still beautiful after all these years together, all the poor decisions they'd made, the woman he turned to when together they'd blocked out the rest of the world.  


“Well, my girl,” he said huskily. “It looks as if we won't have to go through with it after all.”  


Mrs. Heelshire looked down at the note she'd begun weeks ago but hadn't had the heart to finish. With a long, relieved breath, she picked up the paper and ripped it into pieces, sending them scattering all over the floor. Her smile was bright and lit up the room, even as tears glistened on her cheeks.

~*~

Back in their cottage, Brahms and Penny snuggled together on the couch, leisurely making out as Lou Reed crooned from their record player.  


_Oh it's such a perfect day_  
_I'm glad I spent it with you_  
_Oh, such a perfect day_  
_You just keep me hanging on_  
_You just keep me hanging on_  


“Brahms?” Penny said between kisses  


“Mmm?” His hands smoothed over her thighs, dipping under her shirt again.  


_Just a perfect day_  
_Problems all left alone_  
_Weekenders on our own_  
_It's such fun_  


“What were you going to ask me?”  


He gave her a teasing grin. “Don't remember.”  


“Liar,” she whispered and caught his lower lip gently between her teeth, making him growl.  


_Just a perfect day_  
_You made me forget myself_  
_I thought I was_  
_Someone else, Someone good_  


“I'll ask you tomorrow.”  


Smiling, she pulled him down on top of her and they didn't speak much more after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Peaches" by The Presidents of the United States of America. I actually really like the song but if teenage boys had used it to torment me, I'd have hated it, too!
> 
> Penny's sex and pizza song is a goofily modified version of "Sex and Candy" by Marcy Playground.
> 
> Aaand the last bit of lyrics in this chapter came from "Perfect Day" by Lou Reed.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting pretty close to wrapping up here. I won't edit the chapter count until I have the final chapter completely written. It's going to be a huge monster of a chapter and I don't know if I'm going to have to split it up or not so we'll see. Enjoy!

“Brahms? Brahms wake up.”  


Slowly, Brahms came awake to someone shaking his shoulder. Smacking his lips, he rolled to his back and opened his eyes, at first taking in Penny's bare breasts. He admired their full size, the soft pink nipples, the love bites he'd left behind the night before. One bite looked reddish purple and he mused that he'd have to be more gentle with his Penny. At least she hadn't told him to stop or cried or anything like that. All the same, he'd rather it not get to that point.  


With a dreamy smile, he looked up into Penny's face and then came fully awake when he saw she looked frightened. He bolted upright. “What's wrong, love?”  


She spread her hands over her abdomen, eyes big. “I think we had too much sex. I hurt really deep inside. Like, this really, really awful ache. It woke me up. I-I don't know what's wrong with me.”

He gingerly reached out and pushed experimentally where she was hurting. She made no sound and didn't exhibit any other signs of pain. Brahms thought a moment and then hesitated. “Ah, do you think... Penny, do you maybe need to use the bathroom?”  


She stared at him for a long moment and then her face went entirely, adorably red. “Fuck.” She buried her head in her pillow.  


Brahms did his best to refrain from laughing. “Go try. That might help.”  


“Okay,” she said miserably and slipped from the bed. He admired the fall of her long, golden hair down her bare back as she left and he sat up to wait for the results. Alone now, he allowed himself a few quiet chuckles. Poor Pen.  


When she returned, she looked relieved. “Yeah, that was it. I haven't felt that way in a long time so I-- Thanks, Brahms.”  


“I'm just glad you're all right,” he said honestly and opened his arms to her.  


Penny hopped onto the bed and said, “I want pancakes.”  


“Wouldn't you rather have cuddles first?” he asked, waving his open arms a little expectantly.  


“Hmm, cuddles might lead to naughtiness. Look what I just found.” She parted her thighs and he stared at the pink flesh between her legs before she tapped her inner thighs to draw his attention to those particular areas. He gasped when he saw that she had large, purple bruises blooming like the world's most alarming, unexpected flowers.  


“God, Pen!” He started to reach out to touch them and then held back. “I'm getting too rough with you. I'm sorry.”  


“We just need to fatten you up,” Penny said cheerfully. “Then your hips won't be so sharp.”  


“And this plan to fatten me up involves pancakes,” he said.  


She beamed at him. “Look at you being the smart one.” She leaned in and kissed him sweetly. He raised a hand to thread in her hair, loving the heavy, silky tangle of it between his fingers. Her mouth opened and her tongue coyly flirted with his.  


“Careful,” he growled. “You keep kissing like that, it'll _definitely_ lead to naughtiness.”  


“Even after last night?” She looked down at his lap, admiring his hardening cock. “I've lost count how many times we've--”  


“Five,” he said without having to think about it.  


“You're like a machine,” she murmured and climbed into his lap. “You want to go again?”  


“Uh huh,” he breathed, grasping her hips. He went still when she winced. “What?”  


“Er, let go for a second.”  


He dropped his hands and looked down at her hips. She already had five finger shaped bruises dug into her flesh and his stomach twisted. “Fuck, Pen. Why aren't you saying anything when I get like this?”  


“Well, it doesn't hurt in the moment,” she said, lifting off his lap and laying down beside him. “I'm getting carried away, too. Go look at your neck.”  


“My neck?” Brahms touched it and then got out of bed, hurrying to the bathroom. He flicked on the switch and looked into the mirror. His neck was covered with bright red marks where Penny had bitten him last night when he'd given her multiple orgasms by rubbing her clitoris and thrusting deeply inside of her, hitting some deep part of her just right. She'd actually _snarled_ when she'd bit him and he'd come so hard his vision had blurred and took a few minutes to come back into focus. By the time it had, Penny had become docile again and cuddled him against her chest, playing with his hair. You'd never have guessed she'd been a wild woman just moments ago.  


Brahms came back into the bedroom and found Penny sliding her dress on. When their eyes met she gave him an apologetic smile.  


“We need to take a breather for awhile,” she said, softly. “Let's have breakfast and then go up to the house. Chris should be here sometime today with my stuff.”  


“Okay.” His back kind of itched and he rubbed at it. Penny noticed and gave him a guilty look. “What? What's wrong?”  


“Your back itches because I scratched you up last night.” She sat down to slide on her knee socks. “I can put some alcohol on it so it doesn't get infected. I'm sorry.”  


“When did you scratch my back?” Brahms asked, replaying last night in his head. He dropped down onto the bed to think.  


“The last time,” she said. “We started off with you taking me from behind and then you said you wanted to see my face so I rolled over? Then you called me your beautiful girl and...”  


He grinned. “Right. Well. We certainly know how to have a good time, don't we?”  


Penny giggled. She went to the closet and found a white button down shirt to wear over the dress. She looked sweet in his too-big shirt as she started rolling up the sleeves. He rose to his knees on the bed and said, “Marry me.”  


She paused and then slowly looked in his direction. “What?”  


“Marry me.”  


“Brahms, I'm dressed like an idiot.”  


He shrugged. “I'm not dressed at all.”  


“But... where would we live? I don't even know if I'm able to reclaim all my money now that I've been declared dead. Should I just get a new identity along with you? How would we--”  


Brahms started to laugh. “Pen, stop being sensible for a minute. Do you want to marry me?”  


She barely had to think about it. “Yes.”  


“Do you want to have a life with me?”  


“Yes.” She started to smile. “Do you want to have children?”  


“We'll have as many as you want,” he promised.  


“What if I want ten?”  


“Do you want ten?”  


“I don't know. Maybe.”  


“Then we'll have ten.”  


She slowly approached the bed. “Really? You'd have ten children with me?”  


“I want you to be happy. You happy makes me happy. And if you think you'd be happiest with ten children, then I'll enjoy making them with you.”  


Her eyes were sparkling as she knelt on the bed beside him. “Then I'll marry you.”  


Brahms tackled her to the bedclothes, kissing her exuberantly. He started to tug her dress up and then he paused. “Wait. A breather.”  


“One more time,” she whispered. “We just got engaged. Better celebrate it.”  


“Right.” He slid easily inside her. His Pen felt like she was made for him. She eagerly met him, one hand on his shoulder, the other cupping his face. She stared up at him like he was handsome, like he was the only man in the world she loved. Like he was her world.  


Chris was right. She _did_ love hard. That love made Brahms feel secure for the first time in his life. Overwhelmed, his eyes shut. “Pen,” he whispered.  


“Mmm.” She started kissing him all over his face. “I love how you sound.”  


“All the time? Or when we do this?” He started thrusting faster, urgent heat spiraling through him.  


Her face was getting pinker and she was getting wetter. “Well, all the time. But especially when we do this. When you say my name.”  


“Say _my_ name.” Brahms reached down between them and started rubbing her slippery little clit. “Say it.”  


“Brahms!” she wailed, clamping her thighs high on his waist. “Brahms!”  


He lowered his voice, having learned last night that she liked rough dirty talk. “Love fucking my hot girl.”  


“Unh!” She came and mewled, “You're the best I've ever had.”  


“Fuck,” he groaned. He eagerly flipped up her skirt and watched his cock disappearing between her legs for five more thrusts and then he came. He was able to keep his weight off of her for once but lowered his forehead to hers as he caught his breath. Penny kissed his panting mouth and murmured sweet love words until he'd recovered. He slowly withdrew his cock from her wet pussy, already looking forward to doing this again.  


She rose up on her elbows, cheeks flushed rosy red, hair in disarray, and her eyes sparkling. “How about those pancakes?”

~*~

Malcolm sat soberly at the kitchen table as Greta ate her breakfast. She eyed him worriedly; she'd offered him something to eat when he'd come in but he said he hadn't the stomach for it. Yesterday after their séance, Malcolm had left without anyone noticing he'd gone. Now he'd returned and it looked as if he hadn't slept at all. He stared off into space, clenching his jaw every so often. Greta didn't think he was even aware of it, it seemed like he was far away from where they were sitting.  


“Did you need to speak to Penny?” Greta asked. “Do you want to go get her?”  


He nodded and then paused a moment before shaking his head. “I need to speak to her but it doesn't need to be now. Let her... let her be with Aaron.”  


Greta could hear the unspoken “for now” in that statement and slowly lowered her spoon back down into her oatmeal. “What are you saying?”  


“I'm saying she deserves to be happy.” Malcolm's face crumbled a little. “And I'm a stupid prick.”  


“What?” Greta exclaimed. She reached across the table for his hand but he withdrew from her. “No you aren't!”  


“I've meddled in things I couldn't possibly understand,” he said flatly. “And now I've ruined two lives. Nan could barely bring herself to look at me when I went to see her yesterday. She knew. She felt what I'd done when it happened. There's no fixing it. She can't do it, it's outside of her control now. I've really screwed up.”  


“Malcolm, you're scaring me,” Greta said quietly.  


“I'm sorry.” He clenched his jaw again. “I wanted to impress you. I wanted you to like me, to...”  


“I do like you,” Greta said.  


Malcolm slowly shook his head. “You won't.”  


She didn't know what to say to that but she knew her appetite was gone. She cleared away the breakfast things and when Malcolm showed no signs of moving, Greta went upstairs to straighten the bedrooms. She started with her own and then went to the one she'd given Aaron. The bed was a little rumpled so she straightened it and something hit the ground near her foot.  


Greta bent to retrieve the object which turned out to be Penny's sketchbook. There were loads of drawings inside that were really impressive. When she came to the last few, Greta let out a surprised, “Oh!”  


It was Aaron, but not Aaron as Greta saw him. This Aaron was... kind of handsome. A little sexy. Penny had drawn him as she saw him with her biased love vision. Not that she'd skimmed over his scars, not at all. Those were there. But there was this sweetly handsome man underneath the scars that really shone when Penny put him to paper. Greta started to smile. Good for them. Penny had needed a second chance at life and now she had it with a man she absolutely adored. Greta closed the sketchbook and tucked it under her arm. Penny might be missing this and she'd no doubt want it back.  


Humming softly, Greta left the room and shut the door behind her.

~*~

It was a little after noon when Penny and Aaron came through the kitchen door. He was carrying her since she was still in completely ridiculous clothes with no shoes. They were giggling about something but fell silent when they saw Malcolm sitting at the table looking miserable.  


“Penny,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “How are you?”  


“Fine.” Sounding cautious, she looked worriedly at Aaron as he set her down. “Um, is everything okay?”  


Malcolm didn't answer her. “I think you two should sit down. We need to talk.”  


Penny pulled out a chair immediately but Aaron stayed standing a minute, staring at Malcolm with accusing eyes. Malcolm had to look away from him, but Penny's worried expression wasn't much better.  


“Are they here?” Greta called from the other room. She came in and said, “Hi, guys, Malcolm wanted--”  


“It's fine, Greta,” Malcolm said. “You can leave us.”  


“She can stay,” Penny said. “I'd like it if she stayed.”  


Malcolm looked over his shoulder at Greta who looked moved by this admission. She nodded and sat down at the table beside Malcolm.  


Slowly, Malcolm drew in a breath through his nose and then held it. How could he even begin? It wouldn't do to continue sitting here while poor Penny looked almost sick from the tension. So he released the breath slowly through his mouth and began to speak.  


“Yesterday, I spoke the wrong spell. It was for communing with the dead, yes, but based on the context of what was written, it was meant to call a spirit from the other side. Technically, Penny was here with us. Not on the other side. So the spell went wrong and that's why Penny's living and breathing right now.”  


“Okay,” Penny said slowly. “So what's--”  


“So because I said the wrong spell and the unintended happened, it's only going to be temporary.” Malcolm's voice started to tremble and he paused to try to pull himself together. “Depending on the strength of the spell caster, that temporary time can last anything from minutes to weeks.”  


Penny's face started to fall. “And you're not the strongest spell caster.”  


“Not at all,” Malcolm whispered.  


“You seemed really strong yesterday,” Greta said. “You were glowing and your voice was so--”  


Malcolm interrupted her. “I don't want to give them false hope, Greta. Honestly, I'm amazed that Penny's still here.”  


“What happens when the spell ends?” Aaron finally spoke up to ask. His eyes still blamed Malcolm for everything but he made no move and his tone didn't sound harsh.  


“Penny goes to the other side,” Malcolm said. “Her time here will be over. She won't be able to complete whatever mission brought her back to our realm in the first place and... I'm not sure what happens after that. Nan didn't know. She just knows that I've fucked up royally.”  


“I'll say you did,” Aaron growled. His eyes flashed fire but when Penny reached over and took his hand, the fire went out and he looked over at her, his face devastated. “Oh, Pen...”  


“I know,” she said softly. She gently brushed his hair back from his face with her hand, her eyes so sad and bleak. Then she glanced over at Malcolm with pity in her eyes. “Malcolm...”  


Malcolm looked away, trying to keep tears at bay. “I'm sorry, Penny. I've... I've effectively killed you. There won't even be a ghost of you here to still see Aaron. It's all over.”  


“It's not your fault,” she said quietly. When she said this, Aaron suddenly shot out of his chair and stormed from the room. Penny watched him go and then turned back to Malcolm. “I'm supposed to move on. I've done everything I can here. Malcolm, you didn't kill me. You weren't the one who pushed me down the stairs. If anything, you gave me life so I can have a little time with Aaron. I'll always be grateful for that. Please don't blame yourself.”  


Malcolm nodded, his eyes finally spilling his tears. He sniffed and Greta reached over and clasped his hand. He turned into her as Penny left the room, finally giving in to the misery he'd been feeling for nearly twenty-four hours.

~*~

Brahms was up in his childhood bedroom when Penny found him. She paused in the doorway, watching him sitting slumped on the bed. His doll likeness reclined on the pillows, staring impassively at Brahms's back. He wasn't crying but his face was twisted with pain, his hands clenched in fists at his sides.  


“Hi,” she said softly.  


He looked up at her like he was lost. “I don't get to keep you forever.”  


“No one gets to keep anyone forever.” Penny came in and sat beside him on the bed.  


Brahms closed his eyes and his voice shook. “I thought we'd have more time than this.”  


When she'd been given new life, she'd thought the safe thing. After getting used to all of the physical discomforts, she'd started getting excited, thinking of all the paintings she'd create, the places she'd show Brahms, the life they'd make together. She laid awake last night after he'd fallen asleep, planning it out in her head. She was going to take him to Venice, show him all the museums, take a gondola ride. Rent a flat and have loud, obnoxious sex with all the windows open, the thing you do when you're thoughtless and selfish in love.  


“I know.” Her voice was small. She didn't want to cry anymore but knowing that any moment could be her last with him sent shivers of fear through her. Moving on had been a nice idea when she'd been a ghost, but now that she was flesh and blood, the idea was terrifying.  


He looked over at her, his eyes swimming with tears. “I wanted to have kids with you. Twin girls. We'd name them Cecelia and Morgana and they'd have your eyes and my hair. We were going to move to Cornwall, near my aunt Millie. You would paint and I'd play music and the girls would have tea parties with their stuffed animals and...”  


Penny wiped at her own eyes. “I was going to show you the world.”  


“That fucking idiot,” he said despairingly.  


“He was only trying to help,” Penny said. “Don't be mad at Malcolm.”  


“I _am_ angry with Malcolm. But I'm mostly angry at myself.” Brahms sniffled. “Why didn't I just hide again when you saw me? Maybe you would have thought you'd imagined me. I didn't have to kill you. I hadn't set out to do it, not like with the other one.”  


Penny sniffed. “The other one. The other nanny?”  


Brahms nodded. “Yes. Did... that film that they showed you of my crimes feature her?”  


“Yes.” Penny bit her lip and then said reluctantly. “They still count that as you killing her, even though she had a heart attack.”  


He sighed. “If she hadn't had a heart attack, I would have gone through with my plan of smothering her. I didn't like her. She was rough with the doll and rude to my parents. I decided enough was enough and since they weren't willing to fire her, I'd get rid of her myself. So I came to her room to kill her and she woke up and saw me. And...”  


“Heart attack.”  


“Yeah.”  


Penny was quiet and then said, “So then, when they hired me, they let you have more say in who they chose?”  


“Yes. I asked for younger and someone who sounded fun. A children's book illustrator from America who'd traveled the world sounded appealing so they hired you.” His chest hitched. “I keep thinking if only I'd thought of being the handyman myself. If they set me up in the cottage and I got to know you. Would you have fallen in love with me?”  


“Absolutely,” Penny said with no hesitation. He gave her a surprised look and she smiled. “I have this feeling about us. If I can fall in love with you even though you killed me, I could fall in love with you in any circumstance.”  


He started to smile. “I wouldn't have had a pretty ghost to help me talk to you. I'd have struggled.”  


She raised her eyebrows. “You've met me, right? I talk enough for two people.”  


Brahms laughed and then sobered. “It still feels like my heart's ripping in two.”  


“I know.” She reached over and took his hand. “But sweetie, we can't keep being like this. I don't want our last moments together to be miserable.”  


“Then what should we do?” Brahms asked.  


She smiled. “What do you want to do?”  


“Cuddle and listen to music,” he said immediately.  


Her smile widened. “Well, that sounds like a fantastic idea.”

~*~

A little after one, there was a knock at the door. Malcolm was still at the house, traumatized, and Greta had gotten him some tea which he eventually drank. Penny and Aaron were cuddled up together in the lounge listening to opera records and making the most of their limited time together. Greta had been reading and unwillingly set the book aside. Turns out she actually was a reader, she just needed to choose better things to read. Penny had good taste in books and Greta intended to raid others in her collection once she'd finished her current book.  


Chris was at the door with a big suitcase and a handbag draped over his shoulder. “Hey,” he said, looking exhausted.  


“Hey,” Greta replied. “Come in. We've all been here waiting for you.”  


“Gang's all here, huh?” Chris said dryly. He carried the bags in and set them down.  


Penny rounded the corner and gave Chris a relieved smile. “Thank you so much. I've been going crazy without my--” He reached into his jacket pocket and handed her a glasses case. “Glasses.” She accepted it and eagerly took her glasses out, putting them on. Greta thought she looked adorably studious, like a student in a back to school print ad.  


Aaron followed her, smiling warmly. “Better?”  


“Much,” she said, heaving a sigh of relief. “All blur and no form makes Penny a sick girl. Now what should I wear?”  


With an even bigger smile, Aaron picked up the suitcase. “Let's go see what you have.”  


“Don't get excited,” she teased. “I didn't pack anything sexy. I thought I was going to be nannying some stuffy little English kid.”  


Chris watched this easy, flirty interaction between them with a pained look on his face. Penny gave him a quick grateful smile and then followed Aaron upstairs, the two of them still bantering. With a depressed sigh, Chris turned to the door. “Well, that's that. Guess I'll be on my--”  


“No,” Greta said. She got between him and the door. “You drove for hours to get here. You're not driving that same distance today. You're resting and then you can leave in the morning if you feel up to it.”  


“I don't think I can stomach watching her with him,” Chris said miserably.  


Greta hesitated then said. “Okay, I can't say I blame you but... This is probably going to be your last time seeing her. It turns out Malcolm said the wrong spell and her life is temporary. We don't know when she's going to cross over to the other side but it's probably going to be soon since Malcolm isn't that powerful. When she's done changing, try to talk to her. You have more to say, don't you?”  


Chris slowly nodded. “It's too late for me, though. She's in love with that asshole.”  


“He makes her happy,” Greta said, gently chiding. “He was there when she needed someone. Don't begrudge her that.”  


He looked unhappy but said, “Okay.”  


“Come have some tea,” Greta said. “Maybe you can get Malcolm to talk. He's drowning in guilt right now.”  


“I'm not sure how great a conversationalist I'm going to be,” Chris said. “I've got some guilt of my own.”  


“Who doesn't in this house?” Greta muttered as she led the way to the kitchen.

~*~

Brahms pawed through the suitcase. “Mostly just jeans and jumpers.”  


Penny laughed at the disappointment in his tone. “I told you I didn't pack anything sexy.”  


“Anything you wear is sexy,” he informed her and then his face lit up, holding something up. “It's them! The leggings!”  


“My mermaid leggings?” Penny took them from his hands. “I forgot that I'd packed those.”  


“Is the black top in here, too?” Brahms eagerly shifted folded clothes aside on the hunt for her crop top.  


“I'm not wearing a crop top in his house!” Penny exclaimed. “I'm going numb in a summer dress and knee socks!” She lifted out a teal sweater that matched the leggings and then grabbed for purple fuzzy socks. “This is what I'm wearing, okay?”  


Brahms sat back on the bed to watch her undress. He saw the marks on her breasts and felt a sudden rush of possessiveness. _I left those marks. She let me because she's mine and I'm hers._ Then she started putting on a bra and his eyebrows went up.  


“That bra makes you look more naked than your bare breasts do,” he said.  


Penny looked down at her see-through bra and then beamed at him. “I thought you'd like this one.”  


“Do you have anything else you think I'd like?” he asked in the low tone she loved. He watched her shiver and knew it wasn't because of the cold.  


“Down, boy,” she said, giving him a teasing smile. She put on a tan camisole and then pulled on her jumper. It was lovely and he could picture her wearing it in a library. A library where he was trying to find a book. She'd lead him to the correct stack and then he'd lift her up against the shelves and--  


He really _did_ need to calm down. He looked away from her as she slid on her leggings and worked on getting his breath to even out. “How long does this breather need to last?”  


“Hmmm. We can start up again before bed. Sex before bed is the best because it makes me feel all warm and sleepy.”  


“That's hours away,” Brahms moaned, flopping backwards.  


“Feeling anxious?” Penny asked.  


He threw an arm over his eyes. “Terribly.”  


“Maybe changing in front of you was kind of mean,” she said softly. “I'm sorry.”  


“I'm not angry with you,” he said apologetically. I just love you and like--” He felt her hands on the button of his jeans and went still. She popped it open and then the zip came down. “Oh. What are you...?”  


“Just relieving the tension,” she said casually. He lifted his arm away to watch her unzip him and pull out his hard cock. He thought she was going to stroke him and he rose up on his elbows to watch.  


Then she wrapped her mouth around the head and gave a soft suck and he let out a guttural sound that was all vowels. Penny bobbed her head, taking more and more of him into her mouth. Brahms could only watch, slack-jawed and panting as she sucked him, experimenting with suction and speed until she found exactly what he wanted and then didn't deviate from it.  


Whimpering, Brahms started bucking his hips, getting closer. Penny looked up into his eyes and smiled and that was all it took. With a low moan, he shook and came in her mouth. She swallowed every drop and then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand in a rather cute gesture that touched his heart.  


“Better?” she asked, forehead creasing with concern.  


“Yes.” He reached out for her and touched her hair. “God, yes.”  


“I love you.” She neatly put him away again and fastened his jeans once more. He caught her hands and waited until she was looking into his eyes before speaking again.  


“I love you, Penny. I'd happily marry you tomorrow if it was possible.”  


“Penelope Heelshire,” she said.  


“You'd want to take my name?” he asked, his heart pounding.  


“Sure. It's a cool name. If your last name was like, Butts, or something I'd hesitate. But Heelshire? It's cool. Maybe a little too close to Hillshire Farms but that's okay.”  


“I don't know what--”  


“Hillshire Farms is. I know. It's a brand of sausage.”  


“Oh. Heh, you like my sausage.”  


“Brahms. Come on.”  


They both started laughing at their immaturity and then Penny held her hands out to him to help him up. “Come on, let's go downstairs and see our friends. We need to convince Malcolm we don't hate him. I think he's beating himself up worse than either of us could.”  


“I'm not exactly happy with him myself,” Brahms said, starting to scowl.  


“Brahms, don't. Please? We don't have much time left together and I don't want to spend it in a fight with Malcolm.”  


He sighed. “Fine. No fighting.”  


She rose up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “If you're a good boy, I'll let you be as rough and naughty as you want at bedtime.”  


His face lit up and Penny laughed, tugging him from the room.

~*~

When Penny and Aaron came downstairs, they started up a game of cards with Greta and Malcolm. Malcolm still looked pale but he seemed to be doing better now that Penny was going out of her way to be kind to him, trying to show him that she didn't blame him.  


Chris blamed him. Chris blamed him a lot. Why couldn't he have left well enough alone? He stood in the doorway to the kitchen and watched the group play together, his gaze lowering to below the table where Penny had hooked her foot around Aaron's. Chris's chest ached. He could remember when Penny would do that with him at a party. On one memorable occasion, she'd lifted her feet into his lap and massaged him until she casually led him away from the table and to their friend's bathroom where they'd fucked up against a wall. She'd been so adventurous and loving and fun. It killed him seeing her with this awkward, melted face guy with a bad attitude.  


When they finished their hand and tossed the cards in for Greta to shuffle, Chris called, “Penny? Can I talk to you?”  


He ground his teeth when she exchanged a look with Aaron. Then she stood up and said, “Sure.”  


They walked to the lounge and sat down. She kept her distance, her hands folded between her knees. Chris sat on the edge of an over-stuffed chair, elbows on his knees.  


“Listen,” he said. “Greta told me that you don't have much time.” She said nothing and he chanced a glance at her face and seeing the sadness there, he went on. “So I think we need to straighten out a few things between you and me.”  


“Look, you don't need to explain yourself,” Penny said gently. “You didn't want kids. That's fine. People stay together and make each other miserable over things like that so--”  


“Stop,” he said, wincing. “Stop. Look, you don't know what happened that day. The day we broke up.” He cleared his throat and said, “I was at Meg's helping her set up for the party. Lots of streamers and shit that she needed a tall person for. So I did all that and then the band called and said they were going to be late and she got into this whole fight with them. Then the baby woke up and Meg told me to go get her and comfort her. So I did. I picked her up and bounced her and she seemed to like it. I was thinking, 'Hey, I could do this. I could be a dad.' And I started to walk her out of the room and take her to Meg.”  


He paused to clear his throat. He glanced up at Penny's face and saw he had her full attention. “So I'm on my way down the stairs and Meg's on her way up. She'd finished the phone call and she was all flustered and pissed off. We weren't expecting to run into each other. But we did. And... you know how on the second landing, there's that window? With the big ledge that she puts all her plants on?”  


Wide-eyed, Penny nodded.  


“Well, I dropped that kid right on that ledge. Smacked her head a good one. The sound of it.” He winced. “Meg started screaming. The baby was screaming too. And Meg picks her up and just tears into me. I'm a piece of shit, she never should have trusted me, I should never ever have kids. And then she rushes out the door to take the kid to the hospital. And I realize... she's right. I should have been holding the baby better or else when I ran into Meg on the stairs, I wouldn't have dropped her. I shouldn't have even been _carrying_ her on the stairs, what the fuck had I been thinking? I'm barely comfortable holding babies while I'm sitting down and you're next to me propping the kid's head up.”  


“Oh, Chris,” Penny breathed, her eyes pooling with tears.  


“I knew right then that I was never, ever going to have children. So I had to go home and tell you it was over.” Chris's face fell. “I sat out in my truck for an hour working myself up to it. I couldn't stop crying, I was such a mess. But then I finally drove home and... that was it. I ended it.”  


Penny pressed a hand to her mouth, her tears falling.  


“The baby ended up being fine, but Meg didn't talk to me again until she heard from Mom that you'd died. Then she showed up at Rob's and she couldn't stop crying and said that it was all her fault, if she hadn't said all that shit to me, I wouldn't have broken up with you and you'd still be alive. She told me she'd named the baby Penny. And I... I told her to fuck herself and shut the door in her face.”  


“Jesus, Chris,” Penny breathed. “That's cold.”  


“Well, I don't care,” Chris said, his voice hard. “She's right. I'd have given fatherhood a shot if she hadn't said all that shit to me. We'd be together now and Freddy Kruegar in there would have to steal someone else's fiancee.”  


Penny stared at him. “Don't talk about him like that. Don't you _ever_ talk about him like that. You don't know what he's been through.”  


Chris continued to look angry but then it fizzled out and he slumped miserably back in the chair. “You're right, I'm sorry. That was out of line.” They didn't speak for awhile and then he said, “Emily still has Mungojerrie. She said she'd keep him if I didn't want him.”  


“Of course you don't want my cat,” Penny said, flatly. “You always hated him.”  


“I didn't hate him,” Chris protested. “The fluffy little fuck hated _me_. You should have seen some of the looks he'd give me.”  


“Oh, he didn't give you any looks,” Penny said disdainfully, starting to laugh.  


“He would so! Sure, he'd act all cute with you but as soon as you were gone, he'd stare me down, practically ordering me to get out of his house.”  


“Cats don't stare down. That means they like you.”  


“He didn't like me. Any time he yakked, it was always on my jacket or my shoes.”  


“That's... okay, that's true.”  


They laughed a little and then the laughter faded and they just stared at one another sadly. “I wish you'd told me about what happened with Meg. We could have worked something out.”  


“I know,” Chris said quietly. “I realize that now. But now that you know...”  


Penny shook her head and his heart sank. “It changes nothing. For what little time I have left, I'm with Aaron.”  


“What's so special about him?” Chris asked, genuinely curious.  


For a moment, she thought, pinching her lip. Then she said quietly, “He needs me.”  


Chris opened his mouth to retort that _he_ needed her too, when there was a heavy knocking on the front door. They exchanged a look; they were closest to the front door, should they go get it?  


Penny stood. “I guess we should get that?”  


“It's getting kind of dark out. Who would be visiting now?” Chris asked. “Isn't this whole weird club here, now?”  


“Maybe it's Malcolm's grandmother and she can fix me after all?” Penny said hopefully.  


They both hurried to the door and heard Greta in the hall just behind them as they opened the door.  


A bearded man with a ponytail stood on the porch. He radiated danger and menace. “Is Greta here?” he asked.  


Behind them, Greta let out a shocked gasp and whispered, “Cole.”  


“Cole?” Penny repeated, looking horrified.  


The man leaned around Penny to look at Greta. “Hey, Gret, finally found you.”  


The women continued to stare at him in shock. Chris frowned. “Cole who?”


	24. Chapter 24

The four of them stood in the walkway, staring at each other, Cole with uncomfortable intensity, Greta and Penny with horror, and Chris with open confusion. He picked up enough to know that Cole was bad news and placed a protective hand on Penny's shoulder. Penny continued to block Greta, though Cole kept leaning forward, clearly expecting Penny to move.  


“I was gonna write you a letter,” Cole said. “But you know me. I was never one for writing.”  


Behind them, Aaron and Malcolm came walking in from the other room, curious what was taking so long at the door. They both stopped on either side of Greta and looked at Cole curiously.  


“Having a party?” Cole asked, trying to keep his voice light.  


“What do you want, Cole?” Greta asked, keeping her voice low so it wouldn't shake.  


“I just wanted to see you,” he said. “I missed you.”  


Penny openly scoffed and Cole looked at her sharply. “Got something to say, Blondie?”  


“Lots,” Penny said. She folded her arms. “But I'll hold back out of politeness to Greta.”  


“Smart decision.” He looked away from her to Greta. “Could you come out here so I can speak to you, please?”  


“She isn't going anywhere with you,” Penny said coldly.  


“Penny,” Greta said warningly, seeing the irritation in Cole's eyes. “Don't antagonize him.”  


“I don't care if I antagonize him,” Penny said, not taking her eyes off of Cole's face for a second. “I couldn't care less about keeping the good opinion of cowards who beat their girlfriends until they miscarry.”  


All three of the guys went stiff and Chris grabbed for the door. “Okay, dude, we're shutting the door now. Goodbye.”  


“I'm not leaving without Greta,” Cole growled. “I came all this way.”  


“Yeah, uninvited, you dumb fuckface,” Penny snapped.  


“Listen, Ariel...” Cole snatched at Penny's sweater.  


Aaron suddenly smashed by Chris who was starting to move forward and shoved Cole backwards with shocking strength. Greta covered her mouth with her hands and screamed. Cole flew off the porch and landed on his back on the ground, jerking in pain. Aaron dashed down the stairs and stood over Cole, grabbing him by the shirt collar.  


“You don't touch her,” Aaron growled and punched Cole in the face.  


Everyone ran outside as well and circled around Aaron and Cole. Aaron's face was contorted with rage as he raised his fist to punch Cole again. But Cole suddenly lifted his leg up and kicked Aaron in the balls. Wheezing, he fell to his knees.  


Cole struggled to his feet and everyone started to panic, running for the house. Cole came running after them, bellowing like an enraged bull. Chris was shouting for everyone to keep together as they bolted up the steps but Cole was so close on their tails that he managed to get inside with them before they could get the door shut. They couldn't very well shut Aaron out, either.  


“Greta!” Cole shouted. “You're coming with me! I'm not leaving without you!”  


“Yes, you fucking are!” Penny shouted. She grabbed Greta's hand and ran with her further into the house. Greta sent a panicked look over her shoulder and saw Cole try to come after them but Chris and Malcolm tackled him to the ground.  


They whipped around a corner and Penny suddenly stopped next to a wall. “Here.”  


“What?” Greta asked, perplexed.  


Penny pressed the wall and to Greta's shock, a secret door opened. Penny stepped inside and waved her in after. Once Greta was next to her, Penny secured the door and grabbed Greta's hand again.  


“He won't find us in here,” Penny whispered as they walked along the passage. “Just keep quiet.”  


“What is this place?” Greta hissed.  


“Secret passage. I found some weird stuff while I was a ghost. Come on, I have a place for us to hide out.” They continued on and started climbing upward and eventually they reached a weird bedroom lit by Christmas lights. Penny let out a breath as they walked in. “We'll be safe here. It's far enough away from what's going on downstairs that he won't hear us.”  


“But what if he hurts them?” Greta asked, feeling herself starting to cry. “I don't want anyone getting hurt because of me.”  


Penny looked troubled; her own boyfriend was out there, after all. Then she looked decisive and said, “Stay here.”  


“What are you doing?” Greta exclaimed. “I don't want anything happening to you, either!”  


The smile Penny gave her was so beautiful and bittersweet, it caught Greta's breath. “I'm gonna die anyway. I may as well go out protecting my friend and taking down an abuser. Stay here, Greta. It's safe.”  


Greta sank down onto the bed and gazed around the room, eyes wide with fear.

~*~

Cole sunk a punch into Malcolm's gut and he fell to the floor, gasping. “Greta!”  


Chris punched Cole in the face and there was a sickening crunch. “Get out, fucker!” He ducked when Cole picked up a lamp and swung it at him. Cole wound up for another swing but pounding footsteps came their way and suddenly Aaron was screaming and leaping onto Cole's back.  


Aaron wrapped his arm around Cole's neck and tightened his hold. Choking, Cole struggled to pull Aaron's arms loose but couldn't. So he stumbled over to the wall and started slamming Aaron against it, trying to dislodge him. He moved further down the wall and slammed Aaron right into a painting. The glass shattered and Aaron fell.  


Cole wound up to give Aaron a kick but Chris quickly picked up a vase and hurled it at Cole. It shattered on the other man's head and he staggered into the wall. Aaron, on the ground, picked up a broken piece of glass and shoved it into Cole's leg, making him howl.  


Through all of this, Malcolm struggled to his feet and wobbled to the kitchen where he picked up a telephone. _Smart man_. Chris stepped forward and socked Cole in the jaw, hoping the fight would distract him enough that he wouldn't notice Malcolm was missing.  


“I'm not telling you again,” Chris ground out.  


“I'm not,” Cole said through his teeth. “Leaving. Without Greta.”  


“You're gonna have to, dude,” Chris said, panting. He held up his fists, waiting for the abusive dickbag to come at him.  


Suddenly, there was slamming along the walls and the lights started to flicker. The combatants fell still and stared around them, slack jawed. The thumping moved around the room, shaking decorative plates where they hung.  


“What is that?” Cole hissed. He limped to the wall and followed the sound. He paused in front of a mirror, listening intently.  


“We should get out of here,” Chris said uncertainly.  


“Shhh.” Cole waved his hand. “I think I hear--”  


The mirror suddenly shattered and Cole blew backwards. Chis took a few hesitant steps closer, peering into the hole. In stepped Penny, grim faced and clutching some big metal hook thing. She came forward with it and gouged Cole in the gut with it when he tried to get up. He gasped and stopped moving. Then she raised the hook and slammed him in the head with all her strength. Cole fell completely still and his head lolled like a ragdoll.  


“Shit,” Chris said, staring at the woman he'd stupidly dumped.  


Penny flicked her hair out of her face and dropped the hook. She went over to a lamp and unplugged it, then tore the cord loose and tossed it to Chris. “Tie him up with this.”  


“Is he...?” Chris stared down at Cole, uncertain.  


Penny exhaled an impatient breath and stomped over to Cole and knelt, touching two fingers to his neck for a few moments. She stood. “Fucker's got a pulse. Tie him up.”  


Malcolm came back into the room and took in the scene with wide eyes. “I've called the police. They should be here soon.”  


“Good.” Penny looked around the room and saw Aaron propped against the wall, watching her warmly. Her expression softened and she hurried to his side. “Hi, sweetie. Are you okay?”  


He smiled tiredly. “Fine. I think I got some cuts on my back but they'll just match the ones I already have.”  


She giggled, breathy and secret sounding. “Stop it.”  


Chris forced himself to look away and finished tying up Cole.  


Malcolm folded his arms awkwardly. “Where's Greta?”  


“I left her in one of the rooms,” Penny said. “I'll go get her in a minute.” She took Aaron's hand in hers and kissed it softly. “Thanks for running in to defend me.”  


“You're welcome,” he rumbled.  


“Yeah, you were a beast out there,” Malcolm said with enthusiasm. “I couldn't believe it when you knocked him off the porch.”  


Chris stood up and sighed. She'd chosen this guy instead of him. It was over. “You saved my ass a few times during that fight, Aaron. Thanks.”  


Surprised by this, Aaron nodded at him and Penny beamed as she helped her new boyfriend to his feet. They came together in the middle of the room.  


“If Penny has to be with someone,” Chris said, “I'm glad it's with someone like you. I know you're always gonna have her back. That she can depend on you. I don't know where you came from, man, but we're lucky you're here with us.” He held out his hand to shake. “Come on, Woodhouse.”  


Aaron started to shake his hand but a voice behind them said, “His name isn't Woodhouse.”  


They turned and watched Greta step out of the broken mirror. She stared hard at Aaron and Penny clutched at him protectively.  


“What do you mean?” Malcolm asked, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Mr. Heelshire called and told me all about him. He's Aaron Woodhouse.”  


Greta shook her head. “No. He's Brahms Heelshire and he's been living in the walls for years.”

~*~

A silence fell over the group. Then Malcolm started to laugh. “Is this a joke? Did you hit your head somewhere?”  


“It's not a joke. Penny knows.” Greta folded her arms and looked directly at her friend. “Stop lying for him, Pen.”  


“He's...” Penny held onto Brahms tightly. Why was Greta doing this? She swallowed hard. “What are you...?”  


“You don't realize it but what you said to Malcolm today? You said, 'You're not the one who pushed me down the stairs.' It wasn't an accident. You were really murdered.” Greta stared hatefully at Brahms. “And I think we know by who.”  


Malcolm looked baffled. “Who?”  


“She's right,” Brahms said quietly.  


“No, don't!” Penny clung to his shirt tightly. “Don't say anything!”  


“Penny, I need to do this,” he said and gently tugged her hands from him. He ignored her tears for now and faced the others. “Greta's right. I'm Brahms Heelshire. After I killed my friend Emily Cribbs, I was burned in a fire that destroyed portions of this house. My parents rebuilt it with secret passages for me to live, to hide me from the consequences of my actions. They got older and decided to try to find a nanny for me, so I could still be looked after when they were gone. I killed one of the nannies, Trudy MacNeal by startling her into a fatal heart attack. I killed another, Penny Beech, when she heard me in the night and came out of her room to investigate. When she saw me, I threw her down the stairs. I killed her. My Pen.”  


Penny was weeping uncontrollably. “Oh god, Brahms, why did you... We went to so much trouble...”  


Greta's expression was hard as she stared Brahms down and Malcolm looked aghast. Suddenly, Chris growled and grabbed Brahms by his lapels and threw him up against the wall.  


“You murdered her!” he roared and slammed Brahms against the wall again. Brahms just let it happen, teeth grit in pain. “You murdered her and then Stockholmed your way into getting her to love you! You sick fuck!”  


“Chris stop it!” Penny tried to pull him off but he shoved her away from him so hard that she cried out and fell onto some mirror shards, cutting up her hands.  


Brahms's face went white with rage and he effortlessly shoved Chris away from him and then punched him in the face so hard that he fell down. He followed Chris down and kept punching him, over and over.  


Sobbing now, Penny tried to get off the mirror bits but only seemed to cut herself more. Malcolm hurried to her side and lifted her up and away from the mess. Blood dribbled down her hands onto the floor.  


“Why did you do that?” she shouted at Greta.  


Greta looked torn. “I thought... he was making you keep his secrets. Cole always had me lie for him. I just wanted to help you. Like you helped me.”  


Chris was struggling to get out of Brahms's grasp, blood all over his face. His hands fluttered around him, looking for a weapon, until he found a bit of shattered glass. He picked it up and shoved it directly into Brahms's neck.  


“No!” Penny screamed. She tore out of Malcolm's hold and ran to Brahms's side. She dropped to her knees and touched his neck, her wild eyes meeting Brahms's resigned ones.  


“Penny,” he burbled, blood pouring from his mouth.  


“Don't try to talk,” Penny said. “Lay down, sweetie. Help's coming. I've got you. I'm here.” She didn't remove the glass, knowing that if she did, he'd bleed out even faster. Sobbing, she lifted her sweater and ripped her flimsy camisole for cloth that she pressed around the wound. So much blood was still gushing out and soaked the fabric in no time.  


Brahms's eyes fluttered. “No, no, no!” Penny screamed, shaking his shoulder. “Stay awake! Stay with me! Brahms!”  


He looked up into her eyes and mouthed, “I love you.” Then he went still and Brahms Heelshire died.  


“No,” Penny said. She shook his shoulder again. “No! Oh god, no. I-I did what I was supposed to do! I helped you! You were supposed to live! You were able to have a life now!”  


“Penny,” Chris said quietly. “He's gone.”  


“You killed him,” Penny wept. “You killed him.” She lowered her head to Brahms's chest and cried harder when she didn't hear his heartbeat.  


A police siren approached the house. Everyone looked up and then at one another. They looked back at Penny in time to see her go still. Suddenly, she disappeared and her sweater and leggings fluttered on top of Brahms's body, her glasses clattering to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to leave you in suspense for long! The next chapter's coming tomorrow.


	25. Chapter 25

Penny walked down a long, white hallway. She looked from side to side, confused. There were many doors, all of them shut, but none of them had doorknobs. Her footsteps made no sound as she walked. She looked down and saw that she was in a long white dress with flowing sleeves. Confused and now a little scared, she looked up again and saw two figures walking toward her. As they got closer, she gasped.  


“Mommy,” she breathed.  


Cecelia Beech, dressed in white with her long, black hair flowing over her shoulders, smiled warmly at her daughter. “Hi, Penelope.”  


“Hey, no greeting for your old man?” Aaron Beech teased. He held his arms open and Penny ran into them, hugging him tightly.  


“Oh god, Daddy, I never thought I'd see you again,” Penny said, starting to cry. “I drew you so many pictures. Forty two! And then we got the phone call and Grandma cried and couldn't stop crying and I was _so scared_ and then she told me you weren't coming home again and...!”  


“Shhh.” He protectively wrapped his arms around her. “I know, honey. I know.”  


Penny lifted her head from his shoulder to see her mother tenderly stroking her hair. She let go of her father to hug her too. “I know you worried you weren't a good mother but you were. You really were. I wanted to be exactly like you when I grew up and Grandma was always saying 'You're just like your mother' all through my teen years.”  


Her mother laughed lightly, eyes twinkling. “I know.”  


She sniffled and took a step back, wiping at her leaking eyes. “Did you still get to watch me grow up?”  


“We popped in from time to time to check in,” Cecelia said.  


“Never when you were in the can or with boyfriends,” Aaron said, earning him a swat on the arm from his wife.  


Penny laughed. “Thanks for the privacy.”  


“You're welcome.” Aaron lifted a brow at Cecelia. “See? We have a cool daughter.”  


Taking in a shaky breath, Penny asked, “What are you guys doing here? Where are we?”  


“We're leading you to what's next,” Cecelia said solemnly.  


“Is it where I get to stay with you?” Penny asked, looking hopeful.  


Aaron and Cecelia exchanged a look and then shook their heads.  


Hurt, Penny asked, “Was I not good?”  


“Oh, Pen-uh-lope,” Aaron said tenderly, taking her hand. “You were the goodest. Truly.”  


“This is a good thing,” Cecelia promised. “Come.”  


Penny walked between her parents, holding each of them by the hand the way she had when she'd been tiny. They stopped in front of a door and to Penny's surprise, it actually had a knob.  


“Here it is,” Aaron said. “Your reward.”  


“You were brilliant,” Cecelia enthused. “You really deserve this, Penelope. I'm so proud of you. You're an extraordinary woman.”  


“I don't... What did I do that was so great?” She looked at the door distrustfully. “What is this?”  


“Open it,” Aaron said eagerly. He wrapped an arm around Cecelia and smiled encouragement.  


“How good can this be if you aren't there?” Penny asked.  


“Go on,” Cecelia said. “You'll see us again.”  


Penny's breath caught in her throat. “Oh, do you promise?”  


“We promise,” her parents chorused and then laughed.  


Biting her lip, Penny stepped forward and hugged them both tightly. “I love you,” she whispered.  


“We love you so, so, much Pen-uh-lope,” Aaron whispered back.  


Blinking back tears, Penny turned to the door and opened it. White fog swirled around her and warmth enfolded her so comfortingly that her eyes closed and she went instantly to sleep.

~*~

A warm, male body was pressed against her back. Through the open window came the trilling of a bird and the arm around her waist tightened its hold. Penny murmured and stirred.  


“Mmm, morning, love,” his voice rumbled in her ear.  


Penny's eyes opened instantly, all remnants of sleep gone. “Brahms?!”  


“Uh huh,” he said drowsily and left a kiss behind her ear.  


“Oh, thank god,” she said, her voice breaking. “I had the worst dream that you died.”  


Brahms nuzzled her hair. “Well, you're awake now and I'm right here with you.”  


“Good,” she said fervently, making him chuckle. She rolled over and when she looked into his face, she yelped and scuttled away, unfortunately toppling over the side of the bed.  


“Jesus!” The handsome man without a trace of a burn on his face scrambled across the bed and looked over the edge at her. “Are you all right?!”  


Penny's hip hurt but she ignored the throbbing pain and could only gape at him. He had a neatly trimmed beard and his hair... It looked as if he'd straightened it, no more curls going wild. He was everything she could have wanted and also completely and totally wrong.  


“What happened to your face?” she demanded.  


He suddenly looked worried and raised a hand to his cheek. “What about my face?”  


“It's wrong!” she exclaimed.  


Frowning, Brahms got out of bed and padded naked to the round mirror standing in the corner. Wait, what room was this? It didn't look anything like the cottage. In fact, it reminded her of the master bedroom of her grandmother's house. Brahms turned from the mirror, his frown even deeper.  


“There's nothing wrong with my face. Penny, seriously, are you okay?”  


“I don't think so,” she said, her voice trembling.  


Brahms grabbed a robe hanging on the back of the door and tossed it on before coming to kneel by Penny's side. She wasn't naked, unlike him, but in a familiar looking white silk nightie. He gathered her into his arms and lifted her up.  


“You'll feel better after breakfast,” he said gently. “Sometimes it takes awhile to shake off a bad dream.”  


He carried her down the stairs and as they went she stared in disbelief at the walls. Pictures of her that she remembered hanging there for years were still there, along with ones she'd never seen before. Pictures of her with a dark haired little boy playing in a sprinkler, and jumping up and down on a boardwalk, and making faces up at the camera while sprawled on their backs on a bright green lawn.  


“Why are we here?” Penny asked.  


“Because we live here,” Brahms answered patiently, like he was talking to a difficult child.  


“But,” Penny's voice was sounding shrill to her ears and she hated it but couldn't stop it. “I shut this place up after Grandma died. I moved into a house farther into town with...”  


“With?” Brahms asked.  


Penny didn't really want to bring up Chris. “More neighbors,” she said, not exactly lying. Grandma's house had been in a more rural area but there had been people within walking distance if they wanted to visit.  


“Maybe you did that in the dream,” Brahms said, still very patient. “But in reality, we moved into the house and made it our own. It's what your grandmother wanted. We have the house up in Washington that we still need to decide what to do with but since we grew up here, we wanted to live here.”  


The house in Washington. Her parents' house. Penny whispered, “I saw them. They said they were proud of me.”  


Brahms gave her a comforting squeeze. “Of course they are. Why wouldn't they be?” He carried her into the kitchen and sat her down on a stool at the island. “I'm gonna make you your favorite. That should cheer you up, right?”  


“My favorite?” Penny wondered if her favorite was still her favorite in this strange place.  


He gave her a little wink. “Pancakes.”  


Okay, so that hadn't changed. And all of her family was still dead. She looked around the kitchen and it looked nothing like it had when she'd been a child. They must have modernized it when they moved in. Brahms was at a stainless steel fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs and a jug of milk. His robe was black silk with red trim and he looked so unbearably handsome and confident and she longed for her awkward, boyish Brahms so much that her tears started again.  


Brahms went to a cupboard and took down a box of Bisquick. “What do you think, darling, do you--” He turned and saw her face and looked horrified. “Penny, what--?”  


“I can't do this,” she said, shaking her head. “Oh my god, this is so fucked up.”  


“What is?” he asked, baffled. “If you don't want pancakes, you can have something else.”  


She rubbed at her eyes. “Ugh. No. That's not-- I need air.” She stood up on wobbly legs and gave him a warning look when he tried to come forward to steady her. He looked hurt and that actually made her feel a little guilty. But only a little. “I'm going out to the garden. I don't want you with me.”  


“Okay,” he said, still looking hurt.  


“I mean it,” she snapped. “Stay away.”  


“All _right_.” He turned away from her, his shoulders hunched.  


Penny frowned at his back and when she was satisfied that he was going to stay put, she got up and hurried out of the room. She found the sliding glass door that led out onto the deck and opened it. The deck hadn't changed. She walked across it, starting to shiver. It was autumn and she could see fog all around. She considered going back inside for a coat but didn't want to see the scarily handsome Brahms again.  


She padded down the steps of the deck down to the yard and ventured into her grandmother's garden. She hadn't been here in years. Though the house was shut up, she paid a gardener to come out once a month to look after the garden. She couldn't bear the idea of her grandmother's beloved garden becoming overgrown even if she couldn't stomach stepping foot in the house again.  


Penny found the backless stone bench she'd sit on as a child, staring off into the distance as she fantasized. She sat down on it now and sighed shakily. She felt grounded for the first time since she'd seen Brahms's face. She stared down to the back of the garden but couldn't see anything in the fog that continued to roll around the property. Suddenly, a figure appeared out of the fog and started walking toward her.  


Sitting up straight, Penny realized she was sitting outside in a flimsy nightgown. It barely covered her thighs and her tits practically popped out of the top. Embarrassingly, she noticed a love bite on the top of her left breast. This Brahms was rough in bed too, apparently.  


The figure got closer and called out, “Morning, Penny girl.”  


Penny's jaw dropped. “ _Grandma_?!”  


Her regal looking grandmother smiled. She was wearing her favorite gardening outfit, a pair of overalls and a blue t-shirt with Duran Duran on the front of it. She dropped down next to Penny, smiling. “Confused yet?”  


“All I am is confused,” Penny said miserably. “I thought you were dead...?”  


“And I am.” Her grandmother nodded. “Dead and buried, long gone.”  


“Jesus,” Penny said, taken aback.  


Her grandmother patted her hand. “Sorry, Penny girl. I got a little carried away.” She clapped both hands on her thighs. “So! Not a fan of your reward, are you?”  


“My reward is this bizarro world?” Penny said, thumbing over her shoulder to the house. “Hard pass!”  


“Hard pass?” Her grandmother threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, Penny. I knew this was a bad idea to just throw you in like this. But they think they know everything. Well, they do, but sometimes they don't. Like right now.”  


“What are you talking about?” Penny asked miserably.  


Her grandmother calmed. “Well, first of all, you did a wonderful job helping Brahms Heelshire. He admitted wrong-doing, didn't make excuses for it, and was able to genuinely apologize. He fell in love with you and for once in his sad life, cared about someone more than he cared about himself. He was also able to make friends and managed not to murder anyone else, though he could have. That Cole fellow would have had it coming, honestly. They were very impressed with your progress.”  


“But he died,” Penny said miserably.  


“He did,” her grandmother said gently. “You both did. Because you both improved so much, they decided to give you another chance. They made sure to get you into Brahms's life earlier to make the best amount of change and you hit it out of the ball park again. Very impressive, Penny, very impressive indeed.”  


“But why did... Why couldn't we have just lived our lives the other way?” Penny demanded. “We were happy! Things were going so well!”  


Penny's grandmother gave her a look. “Penny girl, you know perfectly well that life wasn't going to work. Even if Malcolm had known what he was doing performing that spell, you might have gotten a few years out of it, tops. And Brahms? Sure his father wanted to set up a new life for him but that mother of his wasn't going to let that happen. And how were they going to react once they saw you? No. No, that life wasn't going to work out. I know you had visions of Venice and children and all that but it wasn't going to happen that way.” She gestured to the yard. “Instead it happens this way.”  


“I don't get what happened,” Penny said. “What's changed? Am I just going to be playing catch up the rest of my life?”  


For a moment, her grandmother pursed her lips. Then she shook her head. “No, you make a good point, girl. They wanted you to just assimilate into this life but it's not going to work, I can see that now.”  


“So what are you gonna do about it?” Penny asked skeptically.  


“This.” Her grandmother gently stroked from her temple down to her chin.  


“What is that supposed to--” Penny's eyes rolled back in her head and she sagged forward, head on her chest. In her mind, everything started swirling and swirling and swirling and--


	26. Chapter 26

_June 1991_

Penny gazed out the window and half listened to her grandmother and her grandmother's friend Mildred as they talked. They were mostly discussing Grandma's book tour and all the places they were going to visit. They'd already been to London the previous day and now they were driving to Mildred's nephew's birthday party. Penny liked parties, and she got to wear her pretty pink flowery dress, and Grandma had let her pick out the boy's present herself. It was a really cool present, one she'd have liked herself. Grandma had paid extra for the shop girl to wrap the gift and the girl had been really nice and explained what she was doing step by step to Penny so she could wrap presents like an expert someday.

They drove through a big iron gate that was covered in balloons. That was pretty neat. Penny sat up in wonder as they got closer to the biggest house in the whole world. Lots of cars were parked in front and Grandma found an empty patch to leave their rental car. 

“My sister-in-law will be pleased to meet you,” Mildred was saying to Grandma. “She's a bit of a climber. A prize-winning author will be quite the feather in her cap.”

Grandma laughed and helped Penny out of the car. “You've always been so cynical, Millie.”

“Wait until you meet her. You'll see.”

Penny held her grandmother's hand as they approached the house. Happy screams came from the back and Mildred led them across the grounds. As they rounded the corner, they saw the party was in full swing. Tables had been set up and everyone was running about, though groups of mothers were trying to organize games. One little boy stood forlornly from the group, in a jacket and short pants and a _bow tie_ of all things.

“That's my nephew, Brahms,” Mildred said, pointing at the little boy who kind of looked like a wiener. “Why don't you go introduce yourself, Penny? Your grandmother and I have to speak to the ghastly adults.”

“Okay,” Penny said. Why was he standing by himself at his own birthday party? It just seemed sad. She clutched her neatly wrapped gift to her chest and set off across the yard. As she went, a husky red-haired boy deliberately ran by Brahms and smacked him on the back of his neck with some plastic party toy. Penny gasped and hurried over faster before anyone else assaulted the poor dork.

Brahms was rubbing at his neck looking sad when Penny stopped in front of him. “Hi. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” the boy said glumly. He stopped rubbing his neck and looked at her curiously. He had the prettiest eyes Penny had ever seen. Had she ever seen anyone with green eyes before?

“My name's Penny,” she said and handed him his present. “I bought this for you.”

“Oh.” He looked down at the gift. “Thanks. I don't... You don't go to my school, do you?”

“Nope.” Penny shook her head, setting her blonde bob waving. It felt neat when she did that, the only good thing about having short hair. “I'm from Oregon. Grandma brought me here on her book tour. Your aunt invited us to your party. Are you going to open your present?”

He blinked in surprise. “I don't think I'm supposed to open my presents early.”

Penny made a rude sound with her mouth that always irritated Grandma. “Aww, go on ahead. I want to watch you open it where the rest of these losers can't see.”

That made Brahms smile and Penny smiled back at him. She reached over and grabbed his hand. “Come on. Let's go over here.” She pulled him over to one of the tables and flipped up the table cloth. They scooted underneath and Penny let the cloth fall after them. “There, no one will ever know we're here.”

“Okay.” Brahms lightly plucked at the ribbon. “It looks so nice, I don't really want to open it.”

“It _does_ look nice,” Penny agreed. “Go ahead, though. You have my permission.”

Brahms eagerly licked his lips and then tore open the wrapping. The paper fell to the grass and he stared at the box in his lap in confusion. “Er. What... what exactly is this?”

Penny stared at him like he was crazy. “Are you kidding me? It's a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle! I got you the best one, Leonardo! He's the leader!” When Brahms still looked confused, Penny sighed. “Come on. Teen-age Mu-tant Nin-ja Tur-tles! Heroes in a half shell, turtle power!”

Baffled, Brahms shook his head. “My mother doesn't let me watch much television.”

“Oh.” Penny sighed and moved to take the toy out of his hands. “I guess I can take it back and exchange it for something else.”

Brahms tightened his hold on the toy. “No, I like it.”

“You do?” Penny gave him a skeptical look. “You didn't know what it was ten seconds ago.”

“Right. And you explained. He's a... ninja turtle. Named Leonardo. I like his swords, they're very cool.”

Penny's eyes lit up. “Swords are so neat! When we were in London, an actor friend of my grandma's taught me how to sword fight! He said I was almost as good as Douglas Fairbanks! I've got no idea who that is!”

“Me neither.” Brahms started to laugh and Penny laughed with him. He looked like less of a wiener when he laughed. “I'd better hide our friend Leonardo, here. My mum doesn't like violence.”

“Real violence is bad,” Penny said. “But fake stuff on TV is okay. Grandma and I had a whole talk about real and pretend aaaaaaages ago. Where are you going to hide him?”

“In my room,” Brahms said. “I have lots of secrets.”

“Really?” Penny looked intrigued. “I'm bad at having secrets. I always want to tell people.”

Brahms's smile dropped. “I haven't very many people to tell. I'm excellent at keeping secrets.”

“Oh, I can keep secrets just fine. I just don't like having them for myself. I'd rather tell my friends everything.” Penny tilted her head. “Don't you have friends?”

“I have one.” His face suddenly went dark. “But she's moving away.”

“That's not good,” Penny said. “But hey, now you have a pen pal!”

“What?” Brahms looked taken aback by the conclusion she'd drawn.

“Yeah!” Penny clapped her hands together. “My best friend Artie moved to Tucson and we write each other all the time now! We send each other stickers and post cards and stuff. It's really fun getting stuff in the mail.”

Brahms appeared to think this over. “I hadn't thought of that. I was just angry with her for moving.”

“Why?” Penny frowned disapprovingly. “It's her parents who wanna move. She just has to go along because she's a kid.”

“I hadn't thought of that either.”

“You don't think much, do you?” Penny said, heaving a sigh. “Well, let's go hide Leonardo.”

They ducked out from under the table and once they'd made sure no one was watching them, they ran to the Heelshire house and went in through the back kitchen door.

“Your house is huge,” Penny said. “I thought Grandma's house was big but yours could eat hers.”

“Why would a house eat another house?” Brahms asked, giving her an odd look.

“Cannibalism.” She gave him a big grin and he started laughing again.

“You're really weird,” he said with approval.

“Thanks. You are, too.” 

The children went upstairs and Brahms led her into his bedroom. It was dark and fancy looking, nothing at all like Penny's room that always seemed to be sunny and had a giant paper butterfly hanging right over her bed. 

“This is where I keep all my treasures,” Brahms said quietly. He beckoned her to his closet and knelt on the floor. He lifted away a floor board and nestled in the hole was all sorts of things. A jar of marbles. A rabbit's foot. A plastic baggy filled with what looked like retainers. 

“What is this stuff?” Penny asked in a hushed whisper.

“They're things I've taken,” Brahms said. He placed the Ninja Turtle in the stash and then covered it with the board again.

Penny looked at him indignantly. “You're a thief?!”

Brahms scowled. “No. I just take things from people who are mean to me.”

“That's still being a thief!” Penny stood up and put her hands on her hips. “I thought you were fun and kind of pretty but if you're gonna be a thief then I'm not being your friend!”

“You.. you think I'm pretty?”

She turned her back on him, making her party dress swish around her. “Maybe,” she said sulkily.

Brahms swallowed and said, “Well, I'll give everything back.”

Penny looked at him over her shoulder, looking suspicious. “Will you?”

He nodded eagerly. “Yes. As soon as I'm back at school, I'll return everything.”

“How do I know you really will?”

Looking miserable, Brahms shrugged. “Just trust me?”

She faced him again and shook her head. “No, that's not gonna work. We'll just have to pinkie swear.”

“I don't know what that is,” Brahms said uncertainly.

Penny rolled her eyes. “Okay, hold up your right pinkie.” When he did that, Penny hooked her own around it. “Now, pinkie swear that you're gonna return all that stuff.”

“I pinkie swear that I'll return the things I've taken.”

“And you have to actually hand them to people and say that you took it and that you're sorry.”

Brahms started to protest that this was too much but when Penny glared at him, he sighed. “Everyone will have their item hand delivered with a confession and an apology.”

“Good,” she said primly and let go of his pinkie. “Now we can be friends.”

They went back outside where Mrs. Heelshire was gathering the children together for cake. Penny took a seat at one of the tables next to Brahms and a little girl with strawberry blonde hair who turned out to be Brahms's other friend, Emily, sat on his other side. The cake was chocolate and the best Penny ever had. She loudly said so and got a gentle pat on the head from Mr. Heelshire as he walked by.

Emily and Penny talked a lot; it turned out they had things in common. They were both talking about how pretty New Kids on the Block were when Brahms started looking extra sulky. Realizing he was getting jealous, Penny asked him what music he liked and he said classical. She made a mental note to introduce him to _good_ music at some point.

Then everyone was corralled into a tent where the magician was setting up. The Great Adolpho had an impressive black mustache and a fancy top hat and tuxedo. He called Brahms up to be his assistant but Brahms got too shy and overwhelmed so Penny went up in his place. The tricks were all things Penny had seen dozens of times before at countless birthday parties, but she enjoyed being part of the show and kept up a big smile for Adolpho who muttered, “Thanks, kid” for her efforts. The final trick was Adolpho letting Penny pull the rabbit from the hat and all the kids cooed when they saw her clutching the white, trembling bunny in her arms.

“Oh, bunny wunny,” she whispered tenderly, giving the animal a hug. “Sorry I can't keep you.”

Some of the kids came up wanting to pet the rabbit and Penny stood and let them as she talked to a few of them here and there. She looked up and saw Brahms go skulking away. Penny handed the rabbit over to Emily to hold and then went dashing after him.

“Hey! Did you like the show?”

“Yes,” he said sourly.

“What's wrong?” Penny asked.

Brahms turned on her, frowning. “You said everyone was losers when you got here. Now you're suddenly friends with them.”

“I'm not--! What are you talking about?” Penny put her hands on her hips. “Because I talk to a few people, suddenly we're best friends?” He didn't answer and she asked, “Why are they at your birthday party if they aren't your friends?”

“Because I'm rich!” Brahms tried to stomp away but Penny held onto his arm.

“Well, so am I, and you're not gonna walk away from me,” she said angrily. “Now listen up, bub!” He was staring at her in disbelief as she shook a finger at him, “I can talk to whoever I want to talk to! Now, I like you, but you don't get to boss me! Only Grandma does! Got it?” He didn't answer and she raised her voice. “Got it?!”

“I got it,” Brahms mumbled.

She calmed. “Good. Now if you apologize to me, I'll forgive you.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.” Penny looked over his shoulder. “I think your mom wants you over at that table. It's probably time for presents.” She took his hand and tugged him over to the table in question where all the other children were beginning to gather to disinterestedly watch Brahms open his gifts.

None of them were anything terribly interesting. Puzzles, clothes, books. Penny was glad she'd gotten him a Ninja Turtle. That was way better than a puzzle of Big Ben. His gift from his aunt Mildred was kind of cool; it was a kite with racing stripes on it and actually made Brahms smile.

Afterwards, there were a few more games and then children started to go home. Grandma stood and talked with the Heelshires until she spotted Penny and waved her over. When Penny joined the grown ups, Grandma put her hands on her shoulders.

“What do you think, Penny girl, did you have fun?”

“Yes. Thanks for letting me come to the party,” Penny said to Brahms's mom.

“You've welcome, darling,” Mrs. Heelshire said. Her eyes were bright as she looked from Penny to Grandma. “I think the children have become quite good friends, Ms. Brooks.”

Grandma laughed. “She's very good at making friends. It's a gift she got from her father. My daughter, Cici, was much more introverted.”

“Brahms is an introvert too,” Mrs. Heelshire said. “It's why I'm so amazed at how he's taken so much to little Penny.”

_I'm not_ that _little_ , Penny thought but kept a smile on her face.

“Did you like Brahms?” Grandma asked, smoothing a hand over Penny's hair.

“Yes,” Penny said. “He's different but I like that.”

The adults laughed but Penny didn't see what was so funny about what she'd said.

Mildred had been quiet, giving dirty looks to Mrs. Heelshire. Finally she spoke up and directed it to Penny. “Well, love, do you think you're ready to go? We've got a bit of a drive to our hotel.”

“Oh, but you can't be thinking of staying at a hotel,” Mrs. Heelshire protested.

“No?” Mildred raised an eyebrow. “I'm usually expected to do so.”

Mrs. Heelshire flushed but kept the bright smile on her face. “No, no, no. You three should stay here tonight. Think how excited Brahms will be. He adores you, Mildred, and he's gotten so attached to Penny.”

Penny looked across the yard to Brahms who was saying goodbye to Emily. She was handing him a slip of paper and then her mother took her hand and led her away. Brahms watched her go and then dashed over to his mother's side.

“What do you think, Brahms? Would you like Penny and her grandmother and your aunt to stay the night here?”

His face lit up and that pretty much settled it from there.

~*~

After her bath, Penny changed into her Little Mermaid pajamas and Grandma led her by the hand to Brahms's room. He was already tucked into bed, his mother smoothing his covers and kissing him on the head. When he saw Penny, he flinched away from being kissed.

“Up you get, Penny girl,” Grandma said softly, pulling the covers back. Penny scooched into bed next to Brahms and Grandma lifted the covers up to her chin. “Are you excited for the rest of our trip?”

“Yes,” Penny said eagerly. “I can't wait to go to the beach.”

Grandma smiled. “We're going to fly kites, and play in the water, and build sandcastles.”

She nodded once. “Good.”

Laughing lightly, Grandma reached for the bedside table and picked up a yellow book. “Ready for some Nancy?” She looked over at Brahms. “You don't mind, do you Brahms? I always read Nancy Drew at bedtime. We're just starting this one so you won't be lost.”

“Okay,” Brahms said.

Grandma read the first chapter, doing all the voices the way Penny liked. Nancy sounded spunky and like she could take on the world, Bess sounded like a worrywart, and George sounded tough. Penny smiled sleepily when Grandma finished reading and set the book aside. She gave Penny a soft kiss on her cheek.

“Night, night, Penny girl. Night, Brahms.”

“Goodnight, Ms. Brooks.”

Grandma shut out the light and left the door open a crack when she left. Feeling satisfied, Penny curled up on her side, facing Brahms.

“Happy birthday,” she whispered.

“Thanks.” He answered. Then after a moment, “I got Emily's address so we can be pen pals.”

Penny yawned. “Good.”

“Can I have yours so we can be pen pals, too?”

“Mmm. Mkay.” He said something else but she didn't hear it, she was falling too rapidly into sleep.

~*~

In the morning, Penny got to witness firsthand a Brahms tantrum. Or at least, overhear one.

“BUT I WANT TO GO TOO!”

“Brahms! Stop that this instant!” There was a resounding crash and Mrs. Heelshire continued, “Why, you've thrown all your nice birthday things! Of all the ungrateful--!”

“I WANT TO GO WITH AUNT MILLIE AND PENNY!”

“Well, you can't! They don't want you coming along!”

Everyone was sitting at the breakfast table and looking awkwardly at one another. Mr. Heelshire sat hunched over his porridge, pretending like nothing was happening. Mildred finally threw down her napkin and got up.

Brahms was screaming when suddenly Mildred's raised voice said, “Well, Brahms, we'd be happy to have you along on our trip. Pack your bag, duckie, and be ready when we leave.”

“Mildred!” Mrs. Heelshire exclaimed as Brahms whooped. “I didn't say he could!”

“Well, you've been overruled. His father doesn't mind if he goes and Morgana and Penny and I would like him along. The matter's settled.” Mildred came back to the table and sat down.

“You really shouldn't have done that,” Mr. Heelshire said quietly.

Mildred looked him dead in the eyes. “You're ruining that child the way you're raising him. Let him have fun.”

They continued to eat and Penny was eager to be on their way, though she hoped Brahms wouldn't have any more tantrums.

~*~

Mildred's house was smaller than Brahms's house, more like the size of Grandma's back in Portland. But she had a neat tower room where Penny and Brahms were going to sleep, and a gazebo in the backyard where they could play board games and eat meals, and just over the grassy hills was the beach itself.

The first day, the two children ran out onto the beach without sunscreen and got terrible sunburns. They ached so much, Grandma and Millie rubbed them down with aloe and they'd rest on the sofa watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Brahms agreed that it was the best show he'd ever seen, though considering he hadn't seen very many, that wasn't saying much. Mildred also had a copy of Penny's favorite film, Beetle Juice, and her second favorite film Labyrinth.

One day during Labyrinth, Penny paused the movie on a close up of Sarah. It was the scene when she's trapped in the fantasy ballroom bubble trying to find Jareth. Brahms gave her a confused look. “Why did you stop it?”

“I just wanted to look,” Penny said. 

“Why?”

“She looks like my mommy. Only Mommy had more freckles.”

“She died last year, didn't she? Your father as well. I heard my parents talking about it.”

Penny nodded and Brahms moved a little closer to her. She rested her head on his shoulder, careful not to press his sunburn, and hit the PLAY button on the remote.

~*~

Once their sunburns began to peel, Millie and Grandma agreed that the kids could play on the beach. They were supposed to stand still for sun block and then ordered to return for reapplications every hour. Then the kids went tearing away from the women who'd settled in chairs to chat and drink under an umbrella.

Up the ways, some teenagers were hanging out on the beach, having a party. Penny and Brahms were fascinated by them but kept their distance as they played in the water, watching the older kids smack a volleyball back and forth over a net while blasting loud music on their radio. The song carried to where they splashed and Penny got dreamy-eyed.

_You're the whisper of a summer breeze_

_You're the kiss that puts my soul at ease_

_What' I'm sayin' is: I'm into you_

_Here's my story and the the story goes_

_You give love, you get love and more than heaven knows_

Penny looked consideringly at the boy beside her. He wasn't nearly as bratty as he sometimes came off; ever since they'd left his house, he hadn't so much as sulked once. He hadn't even gotten mad when they'd met a cluster of kids on the beach the day before and she'd talked to them and they'd all played together. She'd been checking her things periodically during their stay at Mildred's and he hadn't taken anything from her. She liked how he watched TV shows and movies quietly without having to repeat lines or talk over the cool parts like most boys she'd ever been friends with. And he really _did_ have the prettiest eyes she'd ever seen.

_You're gonna see_

_I'm gonna run, I'm gonna try, I'm gonna take this love right to ya_

_All my heart, all the joy, oh baby baby please_

_Rush, rush_

_Hurry hurry lover come to me_

_Rush rush_

_I wanna see, wanna see ya get free with me_

_Rush rush_

_I can feel it, I can feel you all through me_

_Rush rush_

_Ooooh what you do to me_

Without even thinking about it, Penny threw her arms around Brahms tightly. He'd been in the middle of kicking at a wave and nearly toppled over but he righted himself and twined his arms around her in return. They stood there in the surf, embracing, for a long time. Finally, Penny trusted herself to speak.

“We're still going to be friends when I go home, right?” she asked roughly.

“Of course,” he said into her ear. “We'll be pen pals.”

She tightened her hold. “ _No_. Like forever friends. For always.”

“Yes. Forever friends, Penny. I promise.”

She pressed her face into his neck for a second. “Okay.”

He pulled back and gave her a comforting smile. “Let's go before those teenagers notice us.” He took her hand and tugged her away, the music drifting softly after them before fading into the wind.

~*~

Grandma had to be in Glasgow to promote her book. Penny knew it was coming but the day finally came for them to pack up the car and go. Brahms was staying behind with Millie; the short trip had turned into a prolonged stay with Millie and both she and Brahms were thrilled with the arrangement.

The kids hugged goodbye tightly, having grown close over their two weeks together. Then Grandma shuffled Penny into the car and they drove away. Brahms ran down the lane alongside the car, waving, until he got tired.

Grandma looked at Penny in the rear view mirror. “Why don't we make a quick stop at the shops? It's a long trip to Scotland. You'll need something to occupy you.”

They went to a music store and Grandma bought Penny a Walkman. “Go ahead and pick out a few tapes, Penny girl.”

Penny went straight to the Pop section and selected Paula Abdul's “Spellbound.” 

“Don't you want to get another one? You might get sick of it.”

Penny looked up at her grandmother with a very serious expression. “I'll never get sick of it.”

~*~

_June 1996_

Penny happily hummed to herself as she picked up her room. Millie and Brahms would be here soon and Grandma said she couldn't come down and see them until her room was presentable. It mostly was at this point; she'd taken the trash out earlier and put all of her clothes in the hamper. All that needed doing was to neaten up her art table and make her bed. She finished that quickly and just as she was stuffing her pillow back into its case, the doorbell rang.

Gasping, Penny dropped everything and ran for the door.

As she bolted down the stairs, she could hear Grandma and Millie loudly greeting each other.

“Oh, and look at Brahms! You've gotten so tall!” Grandma cried out, laughing. “I hardly recognize you since Christmas!”

Penny skidded to a halt in the hall and gaped in amazement at Brahms. He'd gotten taller, yes, but his acne had cleared up. He'd had it terribly the last couple of years. Penny came closer and noticed that actually, he had a zit high up on his forehead but his curls almost covered that.

“Hi!” Penny said, hoping her face wasn't getting too red.

Mildred raised her sunglasses and gaped at her. “My god, girl, you get more and more gorgeous every time we see you! Oh, Morgana, look at her! She's a little woman!”

Grandma hugged Penny around the shoulders. “We've had quite a few boys calling the house these days.”

“Grandma!” Penny said, embarrassed. She looked over at Brahms, hoping he wouldn't think those boys actually meant anything to her. But he didn't say anything, he just stared at her. She suddenly felt self conscious of her sundress. It was blue with daisies printed on it and she'd really liked it last week when she'd gone shopping with her best friend Emily McKinnon but maybe it wasn't actually that great? 

“Oh, don't be embarrassed,” Grandma said. “We all know where your heart really lies.” She gave a big wink at Mildred and Penny just wanted to die on the spot.

Mildred took pity on Penny and said, “Let's get all of our luggage inside. And lord, I have to pay the driver still. Where's my head been?”

Penny led everyone upstairs though they'd been here every year since she was seven. She and Brahms had always shrieked down these hallways, on one memorable occasion shooting each other with Nerf guns until Grandma had taken them away, promising they'd get them back never. They of course got them back the next day on the condition that they only ever used them outside.

Once Mildred was settled in her room, Penny led Brahms down the hall to the little room next to her own. She opened the door and said quietly, “Here's yours.”

“Thanks,” he said just as quietly. His voice had gotten deeper. It made her heart pound. He was just so... adult. He was thirteen now, only two years older than her, but it felt like decades. He brushed by her to carry his bags inside and Penny felt her face get all hot again.

“Um. Once you're settled in, do you maybe want to go get popsicles?” Penny asked. They always rode their bikes into town to get frozen treats from the little convenience store but maybe he'd think that was babyish now?

“Okay.” Brahms set his suitcases down. “I'll get changed and we can go.”

Penny nodded. “Okay.” She quickly stepped back and shut his door. _He's gonna be naked in there._ Blushing, she rushed down the hallway to the stairs.

~*~

“So I start middle school this year and I'm really nervous,” Penny said as they pedaled along. For some reason, once Brahms had changed into shorts and a t-shirt and they were on their bikes, it felt less overwhelming. He wasn't a tall, cute stranger anymore, he was just Brahms. Though he still wasn't talking as much as he usually did.

“It'll be okay,” Brahms said. “You're good at being okay.”

Penny's heart sank. “Not really.”

“No? What's wrong?” Brahms asked.

“It's... Nothing. I don't really wanna talk about it.” She frowned and pedaled a little faster to get ahead of him. 

Brahms didn't press her and when they got to the store, there was a new shipment of popsicles. Penny got an orange push pop and Brahms chose a cherry popsicle.

“Aw, but that's so boring,” she teased him. “You always get a cherry popsicle.”

He grinned at her and she felt a tiny flutter in her stomach. “But I like cherry.”

“Well, I mean, get what you like,” she said, feeling flustered.

When they paid at the register, the clerk Otto happily greeted Brahms and welcomed him back to the States,then they went outside and started eating their treats. They walked their bikes along near a park, Penny continuing to tell Brahms what middle school in America was like. He hadn't really heard the term before and didn't know what she was talking about. 

As they walked, three girls on bikes rode by them.

“PENNY BEECH IS A SLUT!” one of the girls screamed. The others shrieked with laughter. They were Tanya, Nina, and Heidi, three girls from school who Penny had managed to make enemies of. She'd told Brahms a little about them in her letters but not the reason why they hated her.

Humiliated in front of the boy she liked, Penny dropped her push pop and ran off into the park, crying.

~*~

Brahms watched Penny run away, feeling helpless. These must be the girls who had been giving Penny trouble at school. He watched them on their bikes circle back around, laughing loudly.

“Look at her run! That dress is too small for her fat ass!”

“Byyyye, fat slut!”

They turned their bikes to go. His vision now red from rage, Brahms spotted a good-sized rock on the ground and picked it up. He was grateful for all those cricket games in P.E. as he gave the rock a good hard toss and it connected with the lead girl's head. She screamed and fell to the side on her bike, starting to weep once she hit the ground. The other two girls stopped, hopping off their bikes to help their friend.

“What happened?” one girl cried. “Did you fall?”

“Someone threw a rock at me,” the girl sobbed.

Brahms stalked slowly toward the girls.

“Who would do that?” the other girl exclaimed.

“I would,” Brahms said.

The girls looked up at him, two of them confused and scared, and the one he hit weeping and looking fearful. He knelt down in front of her and said softly, “If you ever so much as look at Penny Beech again, I'm going to your house at night, breaking in, going right up to your room, and slitting your fucking throat while you sleep. Do you understand me?”

She nodded quickly. He looked at the other two girls. “I'll kill you, too. Think I'm kidding?” They all shook their heads. “Good.” He stood up and walked away.

~*~

Penny wept into her drawn up knees. She heard someone approach and stiffened. When Brahms's voice said, “It's just me,” she relaxed but only a little bit. He sat down beside her and didn't say anything.

Sniffling, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “It's because of this boy, Tyler. We got partnered on a project and we ended up becoming friends. Not like how you and I are. Just school friends, where you don't hang out at each other's houses. It made Tanya jealous or something.”

“Of course she's jealous. You're beautiful and she's hideous.”

Penny stared at him and then burst out laughing. “She isn't hideous!”

“Sure she is! She's got split ends and an overbite. Your hair and teeth are lovely.”

“It's not my hair and teeth everyone seems to be noticing.” She bit her lip and looked away. She'd developed quickly, the only girl in her grade to get her period and have to buy a real bra. All her new curves made her self conscious and a little scared, especially when grown men looked at her. 

“I'm sorry you're having a hard time,” Brahms said softly.

She looked back at him earnestly. “I'm really glad you're here. I've missed you.”

“I've missed you, too.” He reached for her hand and she took it, twining their fingers together. “Forever friend.”

Penny smiled brightly. “That's us.” She looked back down at their joined hands and felt a little bit better.

~*~

“He did what?” Grandma held the phone, frowning. “That doesn't sound like Brahms at all. In fact, I think your daughter's been a little too good at storytelling this whole school year. She's said enough about my granddaughter, after all. I suggest you take your rock throwing story to the police if you're so upset, Linda. I'm sure they'd believe every word of it after all the vandalism I caught _your_ little hellion committing ON TAPE libeling my granddaughter. Now if you're through wasting my time, goodbye.”

Penny's heart beat wildly in her chest. He threw rocks at Tanya? For her? That was... really aggressive and kind of awful but he'd been defending her. She watched Brahms as he hunched over his plate and felt conflicted.

Mildred lowered her wine glass and frowned at Brahms. “What was that about?”

Grandma sat back down at the dinner table and made a big show of placing her napkin in her lap. “Nothing, Millie. Just some drivel I don't believe for one second.” As she picked up her fork to return to her salmon dinner, she gave Brahms a wink.

~*~

_June 1998_

He always knew Ms. Brooks's garden was large but Brahms couldn't believe the number of people who could fit in it tonight. She was celebrating the launch of her new book and had invited industry people as well as friends and locals. The party had coincided with his visit and he really wished that it hadn't. He only wanted to spend time with Penny, who had gotten even more beautiful. Longingly, he spotted her across the yard with her friend, Emily. It made him think of his own friend Emily, who hadn't turned out to be as good of a correspondent as Penny; he'd lost touch with her by the time they were ten. This girl, Emily McKinnon, was a nice enough girl but she kept coming up all the time in Penny's emails. Frankly, Brahms was sick of her and would rather have Penny to himself. 

Realistically, he knew Penny was always going to have other friends but he wanted to mean more to her than anyone else. Well, besides her grandmother. She should be more important. For that to happen, though, Brahms was going to have to get brave. Really brave.

He approached the live band playing on the deck as they were taking five and sipping at their bottles of beer. A few young women lingered around them, flirting, but Brahms managed to catch the attention of the lead singer.

“Heyyyy, Brom Bones!” Elby shouted, grinning. Penny and Brahms had met Elby years ago while on one of their bike expeditions. They'd been riding along and suddenly heard a really good cover of the Rush song “Limelight” and they'd found Elby and his friends jamming in their garage with the door open. Penny had hopped off her bike immediately and started dancing. Brahms had been too shy at first but when Elby had seen them and smiled Brahms didn't feel so bad and joined in the dancing. They'd all been friends ever since, though Elby was really old, probably almost thirty.

“Can you take a request?” Brahms asked hopefully.

Elby looked regretful. “I don't think so, buddy. We've got this playlist that Ms. Brooks says we can't deviate from. She asked for inoffensive easy music which means nothing contemporary or too fun. What did you have in mind?”

Brahms sighed and rubbed at his face. He didn't even want to say it. “Look, just... What's your most romantic song? I'm... I'm telling Penny I love her tonight.”

“Wow, about time, Bones.” Elby let out a low, impressed whistle. “I'll see what I can do. We'll play it right after our break, okay?”

“How much longer is your break?” Brahms asked.

“Couple minutes.”

Oh god, in only a couple of minutes he was going to tell Penny how he felt. You'd think she'd know but it seemed to be obvious to everyone except her. Elby saw the frozen panic on his face and laughed softly.

“You'll be okay,” he promised. “Penny Lane won't let you down. I've got a feeling about you two. You're like, written in the stars, or some shit.”

Brahms nodded slowly. “Destined, yeah.”

“Yeah! Yeah, you're each other's destiny. I've never seen anything like it, man.” Elby set down his beer. “Look, get in position and we'll have you covered with a lovey song, okay?”

“Okay.” Brahms walked to the edge of the deck and stared intently where Penny was standing with Emily. She was in a short sleeved blue dress and her hair was pulled up. She looked so mature and beautiful, Brahms felt a longing so strong it brought a lump to his throat. There she was. His Pen. 

Elby conferred with the group and then nodded at Brahms. “Go on, Brom Bones. We got you.”

Brahms nodded and started down the steps.

_Think about it, there must be higher love_

_Down in the heart or hidden in the stars above_

Brahms whipped around and gave Elby an incredulous look. Elby gave him an apolgetic shrug in reply. _Well, I suppose my request wasn't going to be much better than this. Here goes nothing._ Brahms marched across the yard to where Penny still stood with Emily, the two girls now laughing together, nearly doubling over.

_Without it, life is wasted time_

_  
_

_Look inside your heart, I'll look inside mine_

_  
_

“Penny?”

She turned to him, smiling. “Brahms, hey! Where have you been?”

He cleared his throat. “Um, I need to talk to you.” He glanced over at Emily.

Emily's eyes glittered with understanding. “I'll just go check in with your grandma, Penny.”

Penny gave her a weird look. “Yeah, okay.” She watched Emily walk away and then turned to Brahms. “What's up? Can you believe the lame shit they've been playing all night? Elby must be dying inside.”

“Look, Penny, I need to tell you something.”

She looked concerned. “What is it?”

_Things look so bad everywhere_

_In this whole world, what is fair?_

_We walk blind and we try to see_

_Falling behind in what could be_

He'd had a whole speech prepared, how he'd adored her from the moment she'd marched up to him at his eighth birthday party, how much he admired her courage and strength, how her smile made him smile, how when he came home from school and saw he had an email from her, it was worth the misery of being somewhere he hated so much. How much he adored June and December, the two months he got to see her. How last Christmas when she'd dropped onto his bed in her pajamas and told him that she wanted to go to school in England, too, he'd wanted to beg her to stay forever. 

Instead, what came out of his mouth was, “I love you. I love you so much.”

_Bring me a higher love_

_Bring me a higher love, oh oh_

_Bring me a higher love_

_Where's that higher love I keep thinking of?_

Penny's eyes lit up in that sparkly way he adored. He'd never seen them sparkle like this, though. All this joy and wonder and... She lifted a hand to gently touch his face.

“I've loved you since I was six,” she told him solemnly.

His breath caught in his chest. “Pen...”

She stepped up close and whispered against his lips, “I'm gonna love you forever.”

He leaned closer and their lips touched. The stupid music faded away and he wrapped his arms around her tightly. She loved him. His Pen loved him. They kissed and kissed and he forgot that they were at a crowded party because it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except Penny.

When he drew back for air, he pressed his forehead to hers, unable to stop smiling. She laughed and nodded over his shoulder. He glanced back and saw Emily standing with her arms looped around Ms. Brooks's waist, Emily beaming and Ms. Brooks looking teary eyed but smiling.

“I guess everyone approves,” Brahms said when he turned back to Penny.

She giggled and took his hand. “Let's go inside. There's too many people out here.”

Brahms let himself be led back to the deck and to the sliding glass door. While she opened the door, he glanced over at Elby who sang “Bring me a higher love / Good for you, Brom Bones!” Grinning at his friend, Brahms went inside to make out with his new girlfriend.

~*~

_January 2004_

Penny lay in bed and had no plans to ever get up again. Another Christmas had come and gone. They hadn't gone to the Heelshires' this year. Her grandmother had been talking about getting their plane tickets back in October and Penny had startled her by saying, “Let's not do that this year.”

“What?” Grandma blinked. “We always go to England for Christmas. You love going.”

“Yeah, I feel like a change this year. How about New York? You can visit your publishers and we can see some shows. It'll be fun.”

“It would be fun,” Grandma said slowly. “Well... I'll call Mildred and tell her that unexpected business has come up and we can't go. I can't really tell her that we've just changed our minds about-- Penny girl, are you sure? What about Brahms?”

Penny cleared her throat and then tried to say all blasé, “We broke up.”

Grandma went pale. “You what?”

“People grow apart and break up. It isn't a big deal.” Penny huffed and looked away. 

“Not you two. Is this because he didn't come visit this summer? Penny, he had school commitments. He wasn't blowing you off.”

Penny said sharply, “I'm not going to talk about this anymore.” Her grandmother had still looked worried but she hadn't brought the subject up again.

So December came, school let out for break, and Penny and her grandmother flew to New York. They spent two weeks trudging through snow, skating in Rockefeller Center around the big Christmas tree, and saw a few Broadway shows. Grandma had gotten to breeze majestically through her publishers, watching people scuttle and whisper “It's Ms. Brooks!” which she loved but was good at pretending she didn't notice. They'd stayed at the Plaza and watched It's a Wonderful Life and drank mugs of hot cocoa. It had been a fun trip but there had been a hole in Penny's heart the entire time. A hole in the shape of Brahms.

The trouble had started when he hadn't come for his June visit. Mildred had arrived without him, smiling apologetically and saying that there had been a last minute change of plans. Penny had been furious that he hadn't told her ahead of time, emailed her to give her a heads up. She'd fired off a message to him about her disappointment and her displeasure at his aunt having to be his messenger. He'd apologized and said that he'd try to come out next month.

That hadn't worked out.

August hadn't either.

Penny kept up her communication with Brahms, trying not to guilt him. He was deep in an internship with a classical music station and that internship turned into a real job offer. Then school started and between the station and his coursework, there was no time for her. His emails got shorter and shorter in contrast to her long messages that she wrote, hoping to entertain him. She told him all about her classes, her excitement that her old kindergarten best friend, Artie, had come back to the Pacific Northwest for college and they were now rooming together, she sent him clips from Elby's new album, pictures of her dorm room, told him about their hall activities. 

Then one day in October, she decided she wasn't going to email him again. Not until he emailed first and asked what was wrong. It wasn't fair that she was the one who was always messaging him, waiting weeks to hear back. It took two to have a relationship and she was doing all of the work.

Besides... all the messages she sent were trying to hide her hurt about the summer. She was finally eighteen. He'd held off on getting physical for years with her because he wanted her to be of legal age. Even trying to get into his pants in England at Christmas, where the laws were different, hadn't dissuaded him. So she thought, once June arrived, she'd get to finally have sex with her hot boyfriend. He'd fingered her a few times, a few really memorable times, riding his lap and sobbing quietly while he whispered “Shhhhhh” in her ear, turning up the volume of the television so their family wouldn't know what they were doing.

“But I want _you_ ,” Penny would whisper in frustration once she'd come and he'd kissed her softly.

“You have me,” he'd rumbled in that deep, sexy voice of his. “I want us to be together when it's right, Pen. Sneakily fucking on the couch while my aunt and your grandmother are out in the garden isn't what I have in mind.”

Penny started rocking in his lap. “But it'd be so niiiiice...”

He'd hissed and grasped her hips. “Stop it, you little tease.”

“Not teasing. I'm offering. You can have me anyway you want me.”

“Penny, I said no.” And he'd gotten really angry with her, so angry that he hadn't kissed her goodnight and had avoided being alone with her the next day. Not until she'd tearfully apologized, saying that she hadn't meant to make him uncomfortable and that she'd respect his space. There'd been no more fingering after that incident. She'd been sixteen at the time.

Now, Penny had come back to the dorms early. School started on the sixth and she wanted some time to mope alone. Artie was back in Tucson for the holiday and wouldn't be back until late on the fifth so she had the room to herself. She'd programmed her stereo to keep playing the same song over and over.

_I want to meet in 2003_

_I want to see what the future can bring to me_

_I wanna_

_And when I do, I'll meet you here my darling, yeah_

_And when I'm free, I'll be waiting where I said I would be_

_Oh my love, will you wait for me?_

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she listened. She wasn't even sobbing anymore, she was too exhausted for that. Yet when she tried to sleep she couldn't. She just laid awake and thought of Brahms, his pretty eyes, his hair, the way he called her Pen. Everyone called her Pen now, but not the way he did. Low in his throat. _Pen_. 

Someone knocked on her door and she didn't move. Whoever it was could fuck off. It wasn't quiet hours yet and she could listen to her music all she fucking wanted. She never said word one about her neighbor's loud sex habits, they could live with her misery music just this once.

They knocked again and Penny lifted her head off the pillow. “FUCK OFF!”

The person knocked harder. Growling, Penny carefully climbed down her lofted bed and stormed across the room. Dickhole better be fucking brave because she was gonna _murder_ this stupid piece of--

When she threw the door open, Brahms stood there, looking startled. “Penny?”

She gaped at him. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren't at Christmas and you haven't been emailing me.” He frowned at her. “Have you been crying?”

“And it never once occurred to you to maybe email me back?” Penny exclaimed, her voice escalating with each word.

He winced. “Can I come in?”

“No!” But she stormed away from the door and turned off the stereo.

Brahms stepped in and shut the door. “Penny, what's been going on?”

She folded her arms. “You tell me,” she said coldly.

“I don't know,” he said with strained patience. “Or else I wouldn't be asking.”

“Gee, where should I start?” Penny said sarcastically. “How about our summer that wasn't?” When he stared to argue that he had his internship she talked over him, “Or how about all those half-assed messages you sent, when you could bring yourself to send them? Or how I decide to stop being the one to reach out and then I DON'T HEAR FROM YOU FOR THREE FUCKING MONTHS?!”

“I just thought you were busy,” Brahms said quietly. “Your emails sounded like you were really happy here.”

She dashed angrily at the tears falling down her face with the flat of her palm. “Yeah, well, I was trying to open up to you hoping you'd open up to me.”

“I am open to you.” He was staring at her with those eyes of his, like he was looking deep into her soul. “You're the only person in the world who matters to me.”

“Funny way of showing it,” she said bitterly, looking away. She walked away from him, wishing she wasn't in her ratty pajamas.

Brahms shut his eyes in frustration. “All right. I fucked up. Will you... Penny, come back over here and talk to me.”

She stared out her window, at all the little wooden bridges that linked the separate dorms together, all the structures built into the side of a hill. She wanted to be out there, climbing away from this awkward conversation.

“Will you at least _look_ at me?” his voice broke.

Penny turned back to face him. “What do you want, Brahms?”

“I want you to tell me you love me,” he said, his voice shaking. “You didn't answer my email. You just dropped off the face of the planet. You didn't come for Christmas. I was ready for you, I- I made reservations at a bed and breakfast so we c-could...”

Her heart twisted. Oh, she'd fucked up. She went right up to him. “Brahms, why did you keep blowing me off? I was disappointed that we missed our summer together but I didn't start getting really upset until I was getting those stupid messages from you. 'Busy at the station, lots of work, you know how to is. Write to you soon, XX Brahms.'”

“You sounded so happy here.” A tear spilled down his cheek. “Your life was going so well without me. I missed our summer and you were disappointed but you didn't... you didn't try to talk to me all sexy the way you used to. I thought that maybe it wasn't as big of a deal for you. I _hated_ not being here. I _hate_ the radio station. I only kept doing it so I'd have something to distract me from missing you. All I do is miss you. I'm only really alive during June and December, my Penny months. A-and here you were and you were thriving and making friends and you seemed so happy and I had nothing to say.”

Penny went to him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. With a sob, he pulled her closer, hugging her so tight it felt uncomfortable but she wasn't about to push him away. He buried his face in her hair. 

“I'm sorry,” Penny whispered. “I totally misread the situation.”

“To be fair, I wasn't giving you much to read,” he said, his voice hoarse.

She laughed softly and said, “Do you want to lay down with me?” He sniffled and nodded. “Then take off your jacket and boots and come up.” 

Penny climbed up to her bed and watched Brahms take off his outerwear then he climbed the rungs up to her bed and slid in next to her, his back resting against the railing.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he whispered back.

“I've missed you.”

“I've missed you, too.”

Then they were in each other's arms, kissing frantically. She tugged off his sweater and he ripped open her pajama top and she unbuttoned his jeans and he latched his mouth around her nipple, sucking hard. They got the rest of their clothes off and rolled around the mattress, trying to kiss everywhere all at once until Penny was on her back, Brahms poised above her.

“I'm sorry this is so late,” he said. “I said we'd wait until you were eighteen and now you're nearly nineteen.”

“Better late than never,” she answered, smiling. “Now I'm extra, super legal.”

He chuckled but that stopped once he sank into her willing body. The feel of him was amazing even though she felt a little uncomfortable; he was much bigger than her tampons. But he was gentle with her and went slow, staring at her in open fascination, like he'd never seen her before. Technically, he hadn't, not like this. He'd seen glimpses up her skirt and she'd shown him her breasts years ago, when he'd first told her he loved her and she'd taken him up to her room to make out. But all together naked, he'd never seen.

Soon it got too much for him and he quickly pulled out and came all over her tummy. Seeing the disappointment on her face, he quickly got his breath back and dove between her legs. Feeling his tongue flicking there made her squeal and grasp fistfuls of his hair.

“Brahms! I still have... your stuff's gonna get all over my sheets.”/

“Wait,” he moaned. He lapped at her eagerly. “Mmm, Pen, you're so sweet. You taste so good, love.”

“Mmm.” She tipped her head back, feeling the beginnings of her orgasm.

He licked in perfect, concentric circles around her clit until she cried out, thighs trembling with the force of her orgasm. He backed off of her clitoris but continued to lick her.

“God, Pen, you taste like... like...” He raised his head and she could practically see the light bulb go off. “Peaches!”

She stroked his curls back off his forehead. “You like peaches.”

“Mmm. Like your peach best.” He lowered his head and gave her pussy one last kiss and then laid down next to her, gathering her into his arms. He laughed when he realized he'd gotten his jizz all over him as well as her with that move. “Uh... maybe we should clean up.”

“Yeah. There's a shower down the hall. It's co-ed so you'll be allowed in.” She sat up and ran a finger down his chest. “Maybe we should go out somewhere and pick up some condoms.”

His eyes lit up. “These are excellent plans. Let's go.”

Giggling, Penny rushed for her railing and almost hopped over.

~*~

They barely left the bed the next few days. Once in awhile they left the room to eat or shower but they always ended up back in bed. They went through most of the condoms Brahms had bought. Mid-day on the fifth, out at a diner, he said quietly, “I've got to drop you off at the dorms and catch my flight, Pen.”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Artie comes home tonight.”

He was quiet for a moment and then said, “I love you.”

“Oh, sweetie, I love you so much.” Penny reached out and grabbed his hand. “I'm glad we worked this out.”

“I am, too.” He bit his lip and said, “I'm gonna be better about writing. And I'm going to quit the radio station and I'm coming back to you in June.”

“Can't wait,” Penny said so excitedly that Brahms grinned. “I mean, I _will_ wait, I just don't want to.”

“Good.” He gave her hand a squeeze and they hesitantly loosened their grip to continue eating.

~*~

“Heeeyyy, girl, glad to see you-- Whoof. How much Lysol have you sprayed in here? What have you been doing?” Artie came in the door, carrying her bag. “Farting nonstop?”

“Fucking nonstop,” Penny said from her bed with its freshly laundered sheets.

Artie paused. “Holy shit. Who?”

“Brahms.” Penny practically glowed.

Screeching, Artie ran over and slapped Penny's hip through the blanket covering her. “No way! He was here?! You guys made up?! What was his major issue, anyway??”

“It was a miscommunication,” Penny said, laughing. “We're good now.”

“I'm glad,” Artie said sincerely. “I could tell you were hurting, even when you were smiling. No one else seemed to pick up on it, though.”

“Yeah, I'm a little too good at that,” Penny said. “That's probably something I need to work on.”

Artie nodded disinterestedly. “Uh huh, very mature mental health awareness, blah blah. What was he like?? Do you feel any different?”

Penny giggled and tossed a pillow at Artie. “I'm not telling you!”

“Aw, come on! It's been ages since I've gotten laid. Let me live through you.”

Shaking her head, Penny nestled under her covers. “I'm going to sleep now, Artie. Glad you're back.”

Artie gave her an affectionate smile. “Glad to be back. I'm gonna go grab a shower and then I'll be in bed. Night, Pen.”

“Night.” Penny settled under her covers with her mp3 player and popped her earbuds back in. She fell asleep listening to a different song by the same singer she'd been obsessed with days ago.

_I feel so alive_

_This is how I want to feel tonight_

_I feel so alive_

_Tonight and the rest of my life_

~*~

_September 2006_

Penny got off the train, feeling grumpy. She shouldn't be feeling this grumpy in her dream city, Venice, but the train ride from Rome had sucked so much ass, crowded and loud. The only thing that kept her from going nuts was the thought that she'd be meeting Brahms at the station. Her semester abroad in Italy had been great for their relationship; it was much easier for him to get to Rome from England than it was to get to the States from England so she'd seen him loads of times already.

Speaking of her man, she spotted him in the crowd, so much taller than everyone else. Her face split into a wide grin and she ran to him, dodging around slow-moving tourists. Brahms opened his arms for her and she hopped up into them, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“I missed you!” she exclaimed, kissing all over his face.

He chuckled. “I know! It's been a whole _week_ since we last saw each other!”

“It was a long week,” Penny said and pouted.

“Aw, pouty,” he teased, pouting back. “Does pouty want a kiss?”

“Pouty does,” Penny answered. He obliged her and then slowly set her down, letting her body slide against his, making her shiver.

“Well, where to first?” Brahms asked, grabbing her hand.

“I don't care,” she said, unable to look away from him.

He squeezed her hand. “I don't care it is. Let's go.”

~*~

After they'd dropped Penny's bag off at Brahms's hotel, they explored the city, admiring the old architecture. They took a gondola ride and kissed under bridges. At lunch time, they ate at a charming bistro, where Brahms ordered for them in fluent Italian. Penny watched his lips the whole time and when they were through eating, she hurried him the back to the hotel and they didn't come out again until well into evening.

Brahms told her about a fancy art gallery showing and Penny was intrigued. After bumbling around her first year at school, she'd decided on becoming an art major. She'd always drawn and painted but now she was taking it seriously and her talent was really flourishing. She was eager to see other's work to draw some inspiration. Brahms took her shopping for a gorgeous dress, a backless strapless black floor length gown. 

“I don't know about this,” Penny said nervously, eyeing her bust.

The dressmaker said something quickly and Brahms translated. “She says its corseted with whale bone. It'll keep you in.” The woman said something more, eyes sparkling, and Brahms laughed a little. “She says I'm a lucky man to have a woman with so beautiful a body.”

“Yeah, you are,” Penny said, flicking his collar and the dressmaker laughed uproariously.

That night, they walked arm in arm into the showing/party and Penny was enchanted by everything she saw. The art was beautiful, a mix of old masters with more modern artistry. The show was held in an old Venetian house that had been restored to its 18th century style. The furniture was so lush and beautiful. Penny wanted to live there.

As the night passed, Penny noticed that Brahms's hand on her back was getting more and more sweaty. She gently suggested that he go freshen up and noticed with alarm that it wasn't just his hands sweaty. He pulled at his collar and shakily agreed. 

Maybe he's got food poisoning? Penny pondered as she stood without him, looking at more paintings. I feel fine, but then, we didn't eat the same thing.

When he returned, he looked a little better but he was more tense.

“Let's go in here,” he said, gesturing to a room where a string quartet was playing. As they entered, they finished the song they'd been playing and began another one. The song sounded familiar but it wasn't until a few moments had passed that she recognized it. 

It was the string section from “Rush, Rush.”

Spinning to face Brahms, she saw that he was down on one knee. She clapped both hands to her mouth as he opened the velvet box that was suddenly in his hand, revealing the garnet ring nestled there. 

“Penny,” he said, his voice trembling. “My Pen. My forever friend. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” She hopped up and down and knew she looked stupid but didn't care. Not when Brahms's face shone with joy and relief and he was standing and slipping the ring on her finger. As they kissed, people around them whistled playfully and clapped.

~*~

A week after her college graduation, they were married. Their first dance was to “Rush, Rush.”

Elby insisted on playing “Higher Love” next and couldn't be dissuaded.

~*~

Brahms moved to the States and they settled in a house in Portland, not far from Grandma's. Brahms landed a job scoring films and set up a sound studio in their basement. Penny painted and illustrated children's books, working regularly on one of her own. It took ages, since essentially each page of her book was a detailed oil painting. But one day, she finally finished it. Amelie's Memory Garden.

Shortly before publication, Grandma had a major stroke and died.

Penny was inconsolable for weeks but Brahms stayed by her side, arms around her. When Penny told him about feeling guilty, he didn't tell her she was being irrational, to stop being stupid. He simply tucked a strand of her golden hair behind her ear and said tenderly, “Do you really believe your grandmother thinks you killed her?”

It took a few more months, but Penny was able to look at Amelie's Memory Garden again and was able to feel proud of it.

A year later, they sold their little house and moved into Grandma's. They renovated the kitchen and the bathrooms but kept everything else the same. It was the house they fell in love in, the house where Brahms, Penny, Grandma, and Millie had felt like family.

Millie still came to visit every June, and they still went to the Heelshires every December. They were happy. It was a good life they had.

~*~

Penny drew in a long, sharp breath and sat up straight once more on the stone bench. She looked over at her grandmother, who was smiling gently.

“That... that all happened,” Penny said weakly.

“It did,” Grandma agreed.

“But, I can feel it the other way, too.” Penny frowned. “Are the old memories going to go away?”

Grandma stroked her hair. “They're already fading.”

“So... I won't remember anything from my old life at all? About how Brahms and I used to be?”

“Well, there will be a few reminders. You get to keep a couple souvenirs at least.” Grandma gestured over her shoulder to the house. “When you go up to your studio later, you'll see the sketches for the story about the masked boy in the attic.”

Penny nodded. “Okay. Wow, I have a studio?”

Grandma laughed softly. “It's my old writing room.”

“And what's my other souvenir?” Penny asked.

Her grandmother gently touched a hand to her abdomen. It took a moment for Penny to get her meaning and then gasped in shock, grabbing her grandmother's hand. “Am I? Am I really? I'm pregnant?”

“Yes, you really are.” Grandma leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “You're going to be so happy, Penny girl. You already are. You always will be.”

Penny held tight to Grandma's hand as she tried to pull away. “Are you leaving now?”

“I have to. I did my part.” When Penny reluctantly let her go, Grandma stood. “Take care of your Brahms, Penny. You both earned this happiness. In order for him to be completely happy, he can't remember anything that happened before. It's why he's such a good man. You wouldn't want those murders and guilt on his head again, would you?” Penny shook her head. “That's what I thought. Best be on my way. And get inside, girl, what were you thinking coming out in that thing? Eesh!”

Watching Grandma walk off into the fog, Penny felt the cold again. She started shivering uncontrollably and decided to go back into the house. Handsome, unscarred Brahms wasn't so scary anymore.

She got up and walked across the lawn until a “Brrrrp!” chirp came at her out of the fog and a large, orange, black, and brown tabby cat charged at her.

“Mungojerrie!” She scooped him up into her arms and he purred, drooling all over her face as he nuzzled her. She giggled. “Come on, let's go inside and see Brahms.” Walking back to the deck, she paused when she noticed her jacket folded over the railing. He'd brought that out to her, knowing she'd be cold, but respecting that she wanted him to keep his distance. Biting her lip, she picked the jacket up and draped it over her arm.

Once the door was open, Mungo struggled to get out of her arms until she dropped him. He trotted off on important cat business. Penny wondered how long she'd been out there but saw that Brahms was just mixing the wet ingredients with the dry for her pancakes. No time at all, then.

She went into the living room where she found her laptop charging. She unplugged it and opened up her Spotify playlist simply titled “Brahms” and hit play. The first song began to play and she waited a bit before going back into the kitchen.

_And all I want from you is what you are_

_And even if you're right next to me you're still too far away_

_If I'm not inside your arms_

_I get dramatic yes I know_

_But I need you, I want you, oh man I love you so_

He looked up when she came in, still looking hurt. Penny went right to his side and wrapped her arms around him.

“I had a bad dream,” she said quietly. “But I'm awake now. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.” He tried to smile and the sight hurt her heart.

“No, it's not. I was mean to you and you didn't deserve it.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “I love you. I'm gonna love you forever.” She laughed softly. “Did you know after our first summer together, Grandma bought this tape for me? I listened to this song the whole way to Glasgow. And then we went to Dublin and I listened to it there. It finally broke when we crossed the channel to Paris. I cried so much, Grandma bought me another one but told me that I could only listen to it once a day. And I saved it for right before bed, after my Nancy Drew chapter.”

Brahms stared into her eyes, touched. “I didn't know that.”

“Now you do.” She tenderly stroked the side of his face. “There's something else you need to know, too.”

“What is it?” he asked, his hands caressing her hips.

She leaned forward and whispered against his mouth, “You're gonna be a daddy.”

“I-I am? Oh, Pen, really? I am?” He started laughing and crying at the same time, hugging her tightly. He buried his face in her hair. “Oh, Pen. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” she said. “I think the pancakes can wait, don't you?”

He didn't need any more prompting than that and scooped her up into his arms, hurrying her to the stairs. She giggled and held on tightly. As they went, they passed one of the pictures on the wall, something that had pride of place no matter what universe she was in. It was the wedding photo of her parents, only nineteen and twenty-one at the time. They looked so young and in love, holding hands and gazing up at each other.

_I finally have what you two had_ , Penny mused, then thoughts of her parents flew away as her husband carried her back to bed and closed the door on her parents's smiling eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo the songs mentioned this chapter:
> 
> "Rush, Rush" by Paula Abdul. I loved the song when I was a little girl and made me all swoony for a boyfriend so when I was researching what was in the pop charts in 1991 and saw it there, it became Brahms and Penny's song.
> 
> "Higher Love" by Steve Winwood and while plotting this chapter for the last week this has been in my head every single day.
> 
> "2003" by Nina Gordon. The lyrics just screamed teen!Penny/Brahms
> 
> "Tonight and the rest of My Life" by Nina Gordon. Another song I loved when I was Penny's age.
> 
> And that's it! This has been a journey. Thanks for the comments and kudos, it's been fun! I'm not sure when I'll be writing fic again anytime soon but when I am, I hope you join me. <3


End file.
